


Segments of Blue

by Neon_Zephyr



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Explicit Language, Homophobic Bullying, Multi, Post-Game(s), Series Spoilers, Various slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 120,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2037930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neon_Zephyr/pseuds/Neon_Zephyr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Identity is not a cohesive whole, but how the pieces fit together, constantly evolving. The young detective has learned this, but solving this puzzle may prove to be the one case she can't solve. Especially when one factors in her always-shifting place among her friends.</p>
<p>To make matters worse, she finds herself involved in a case of innocents being abducted for an unknown group's experiments with Shadows. An experiment that has gone horribly right. Reality threatens to unravel into its darkness.</p>
<p>As does she.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts in the fall following Ultimax/Golden's Epilogue. Spoilers for all games will thus be present. Past events will consist of a blend of the games, both anime, as well as a couple of moments from the manga (though, when in doubt, the game's version takes precedence). The Naoto spinoff light novel/manga is also currently being treated as non-canon. This story also assumes Yu romanced no one. Title is also subject to change.

The teenager set the plate down onto the desk next to the laptop, before she pulled the chair our and gradually sat down. She stared at the bright screen for a long moment, her email inbox showing just a single unread message, marked “URGENT.” Sender unknown.

She knew exactly what it would be. More work.

Not that she was disconcerted at the prospect of continued employment, per se. Her discomfort at the email’s presence was more due to its timing. Today had been the first day of the fall term of her second year of high school. She was admittedly quite irritated that the email couldn’t have come a few days previous, or a few days thereafter. Her teachers would not be pleased to have her miss out on what would likely be at least two days to a week of school so early into term.

_It certainly isn’t assisting the situation any that I have Kashiwagi-san for homeroom._ Her exhausted emotion morphed to straight frustration. _She’s an irritation to the class as a whole, and she seems to hold a particular grudge against me._ Her mind quickly flashed with a memory that was the most likely source of the antagonism. Heat briefly flushed across her face. _R-regardless, the situation is probably further aggravated by the fact that Rise-san has taken leave for the next few months for_ her _job._

She absent-mindedly grabbed one of the onigiri from her plate, holding it near her mouth. She still didn’t eat, though, continuing to stare at her laptop screen.

_To be honest, if the student population hadn’t reduced so drastically over the past few months, I might not have been moved to Class 2._

Not that the change was wholly unpleasant, mind. She did already have acquaintances in her new class makeup, and even a couple friends. Konishi-san—Naoki-kun, he insisted she call him—sat directly behind her. His friendship with Yu the previous year had done wonders for him; where he had once been withdrawn and resentful, he now possessed a far warmer personality. Perhaps it had something to do with finally being able to grieve his sister.

_Saki Konishi._ The name echoed in her mind. _The high school student who was the second of the strange murders that I had been sent to help investigate._ A year ago, it had just been another name, another _victim_ , in a long list of disembodied names to her. Now…it had meaning. It was personal, _human_.

She smiled in spite of herself. That was an excellent summation of one of the most important changes in her life over the past year; people—individuals—had become—important—to her. Friends.

She looked at the still-uneaten onigiri in her hand.

Other names had become important to her—had become her friends. They had just been names in a file, faces to observe—and at a distance, people to interrogate. Until her desperation to find the truth—and sheer stubborn pride—had resulted in her making herself bait for a kidnapper and presumed murderer, and had only been saved from death by the very people she had kept at such a distance.

And, now, she’d remained in town, chose to live there—at least through high school—because of those people. Her friends.

She sighed at the onigiri. She placed it back on the plate. Maybe she wasn’t really hungry. She hadn’t eaten since lunch—and it was almost ten, now—but….

_I have to eat it sometime tonight, though,_ she insisted to herself. _It would be impolite otherwise._ He refused to say so, but she knew that _he’d_ made the onigiri himself. _He gave some to Koni—to Naoki-kun, too._

But….

_But…what?_ She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, her hands clasped against her chin. But, he had acted funny? That was not particularly bizarre behavior for him, at least when she was around. She figured it was likely due to him still being unsure how she wanted him to treat her; not everyone had exactly adapted in a rapid manner to discovering that the famous Detective Prince was actually a girl. Some students even ridiculed her for it; some still did.

No matter. Their opinions were of little consequence; they were civilians, _minors_ , and had little say in the well-being of her career.

The police department, however….

She sighed again. It didn’t accomplish anything to dwell on this. She needed to at least learn what was in this email, before she could make a decision on how to handle it.

The first thing that caught her eye when she opened it was that it was sent by Detective Kurosawa. She’d worked with him earlier, during the spring, when she’d performed a brief observation on the Shadow Operatives. He was forwarding this information to her, and the second thing that stood out told her why.

_Suspected Shadow activity._

There were only a few clues that pointed to _any_ link to Shadows. Two, to be exact. But, it was enough.

Worse, this was worldwide.

There had been a series of kidnappings. Several countries, all of them occurring within the same two-hour window. It was theorized that it was actually within a single hour, but some of the missing subjects had longer time gaps where they had been alone. And vulnerable.

She shook her head, fighting back the memory of the overly-sweet aroma.

One of the kidnappings had left behind a single speck of evidence. A small fragment of an unknown substance. Which had covertly been discovered to be the remains of a Shadow, just like what would sometimes be left behind when the Investigation Team—including herself—would defeat one.

Then, in a case officially thought to be completely unrelated, there had been an unspecified disturbance in a city relatively close to Inaba, on the other side of Okina. Something about a damaged building and a strange figure who had apparently attacked a few people—no casualties, and the victims were more emotionally shaken than anything. The incident had occurred late the previous night; there was absolutely no consistency from the witnesses on what the suspect had looked like. Short, tall, fat, scrawny, they couldn’t even agree if it looked or sounded like a man or a woman.

Not that she had any right to fault them for that.

What stood out most, though, was what had been discovered in the damaged building’s rubble: another Shadow fragment—this one cloth—and—

A Plume of Dusk.

She knew this term. It had something to do with the Anti-Shadow robots that the Kirijo Group had developed. Something about it serving as a core; she didn’t exactly have access to their records to know the full story.

It was just a fragment of one, though. It almost hadn’t been found in the rubble at all.

Did this implement the Kirijo Group in any way? There was no information on the Plume beyond its discovery and identification.

Kurosawa and those in Public Safety attached to the cases suspected a connection, and the proximity of the more recent one meant that she might cross paths with whatever was happening.

“Solely to inform you of possible activity,” she spoke for the first time since she’d come home to her empty apartment that night. So, they weren’t directly asking her to get involved. No doubt, the Shadow Operatives were already on the case; this seemed to fall more under their jurisdiction. It was solely information, just in case whatever it was managed to affect Inaba. She—and likely the rest of the Team—would need to know to keep alert.

Well. At least she wouldn’t have to miss any school. She knew that she was going to have trouble sleeping tonight, as it was.

More Shadows.

On one hand, it filled her with a sense of excitement. Childish emotion, really, but natural. The murder case the previous year and the fight against Shadows had brought her friends together in the first place. Of course, getting to fight alongside them again was an appealing prospect. Even the fight itself, the summoning of a Persona, the utilization of its skills, it filled one with an energy that bordered on euphoric.

_Or_ , she allowed herself another smile, _maybe that’s just me._ _Though, Yosuke-senpai_ did _say that Yu-senpai seemed to get the same rush, at least._

Regardless, this was a matter that the rest of the Team needed to know about. Though, without Yu and Rise, they probably wouldn’t be able to do as much.

Hopefully, they wouldn’t have to.

Though, she knew better. If there was any chance that this could affect them, it likely would. History showed it to be the way things worked.

She flipped open her phone. She started to scroll through her limited contacts. Just as she stopped at _Hanamura-san_ —she’d never changed the contact name?—the screen changed to an incoming text.

_Kanji-kun._

She blinked for a moment, glancing quickly at the uneaten onigiri on the plate. A sudden wave of guilt washed over her, unbidden, and she grabbed one with her free hand, taking a bite.

_Pork,_ she identified the filling. _Even cold, it’s…more than acceptable. I shall have to thank him again in the morning, even if he refuses to hear it._ The boy was still very odd.

She opened the text, continuing to eat.

_Naoto, will you please text Naoki and tell him that you’re all right. Dude won’t shut up. I just want to sleep._

She exhaled slowly. There was a rather annoying burning in her gut that told her that it was very unlikely that _Naoki-kun_ was concerned, but she opened her message box anyway.

Yet, sure enough…

_Hey, Naoto-kun. Checking that you’re okay from today. Kashiwagi was completely out of line. Wrong, too. For what it’s worth._

She blinked at the screen.

Naoto had completely forgotten that she’d left rather…abruptly after school ended early for start of term. It had actually had nothing to do with the utterly moronic things Kashiwagi had said—or, more accurately, implied—during class. She’d simply wanted to get to the bookstore to pick up a new arrival. And Kanji had been highly stiff and unresponsive.

Perhaps she should have asked one or both of them to accompany her?

_I’m still not very skilled at this._

She sighed, finishing the first rice ball.

_I AM FINE. I HAD 2 GO SOMEWHERE._

Hopefully, that would be the end of…

_No,_ she shook her head. _That won’t be enough._

_THX 4 CONCERN. NIGHT._

There. Much more appreciative, and ended the conversation smoothly.

Naoto admittedly hated abbreviating anything in her text messages. But, the point of a text was to get information across simply and quickly. It was more efficient in this manner.

Still, every message she sent made her scowl.

Naoto looked at her laptop. She needed to tell the others about this, but it would be easier during a meeting, like they’d had during the murder investigation. She had considered texting Yosuke-senpai to get the group together—another reason she abbreviated her messages was that it saved money—but, now….

_For the sake of efficiency,_ she told herself.

She looked back at the remaining rice ball on the plate. Her scowl softened to a thin smile. She brought up the conversation marked _Kanji-kun_ again.

_HE KNOWS NOW. CAN YOU GET GROUP 4 TOMORROW? JUNES?_

It only took a few moments for a response.

_Sure thing. ‘Sup?_

_EMAIL. EXPLAIN LATER._

She shook her head. _That’s way too abrupt. They’ll only worry all night._

_THX AGAIN 4 FOOD. GOODNIGHT._

She didn’t have to look at the response to know what it said.

She looked at the wall next to her desk. A year ago, it was covered with documents and photos involving her investigation on the Inaba murder case. There had also been documents on what little information she’d had on the related disappearances, as well as covert photos of the group of teenagers that included said disappearances. The Investigation Team.

Now, the wall was far more bare, containing only a few documents—some still involving said case, such as Adachi’s testimony and incarceration—and a few, new photos. One was from this summer, when Yu had come to visit, of the entire Investigation Team. Including her.

Her friends.

Naoto smiled again. She’d gone from investigating them, to investigating _with_ them, to simply being with them. All because she’d accepted a case that had intrigued her. She adjusted the photo, leveling it straight again.

_That reminds me._ She reached to her bag, and pulled out the thin envelope she’d found among the mail earlier. She pulled out the picture in it. _Naoki-kun insisted on this when we arrived this morning. How he managed to get it printed and to me by the time I got home is a mystery I’ll probably never solve._ She allowed herself a chuckle. Naoto taped the new photo on the wall, next to the group one.

Naoki had taken it with his new phone—only adding to the mystery of how he had it printed so fast—and thus he was slightly more in the forefront, his arm extended out-of-frame. He was wearing the summer uniform, though the shirt’s top button was undone, revealing the blue undershirt beneath. Next to him, with a look of mild surprise, was Naoto herself, seated at her school desk. She still dressed in Yasogami’s boys’ uniform. Not that she was wholly uncomfortable in women’s clothes anymore, just….

It was easier, really. And she still felt far more comfortable in pants than a skirt. She currently only wore the latter among her closest friends, the Team.

_Not to mention the other students might…react in an egregious manner if I were to stop, er, binding all at once._

She didn’t bind her chest as tightly for school, anymore, either, allowing for a… suggestion of her shape under the summer uniform. It would be much less obvious with the winter uniform’s jacket, but in the short-sleeved shirt, it was—well, much more difficult to mistake her for a boy anymore, especially considering her hair had grown a short length since spring.

_Which is supposed to be the point,_ she reminded herself. _I’m trying to ease myself into this. I doubt I’ll ever be… traditional. But…._

On the other side of her from Koni— _Naoki-kun_ —sat Kanji, a much more strained expression on his face, despite the smile. He was seated at his desk, half-turned to face the camera. He was still refusing to wear the proper school uniform—not that Naoto had room to complain—though the sleeveless shirt he wore was a solid black without any design, unlike what he used to wear to school—or anywhere else. His hair was no longer bleached nor brushed back, his black bangs sweeping forward to just above his glasses. Though, they certainly didn’t hide the scar by his left brow. He still had his multiple piercings, as well, and he took no method to cover the skull tattoo on his left shoulder. His expression was a variation of the one he’d had all day: a flawed attempt to hide discomfort of some sort, though Naoto had no idea what the source of such discomposure could be.

_One mystery at a time,_ she sighed to herself. She picked up the remaining onigiri and started eating it, as she returned her gaze to her laptop. _For now, I should scour these documents for everything that could have any amount of relevance._

Tomorrow promised to be interesting, if nothing else.

…

…

She finally stopped running, under the awning over a back door. The pouring rain was finally off of her back. She’d stuck to back alleys since the previous night, until she’d come to the edge of the city. She had kept going, through the woods and farms of the countryside, until she’d come to yet another city. Now, still in the back alleys and side streets, she figured she was far enough away to rest and take stock.

_Take stock._ She repeated the words to herself. She couldn’t remember much.

_Take stock_ , she repeated again. _What_ do _I know?_ She sat down on the step, watching the rain fall. She looked at herself. She was dressed in a full-body jumpsuit, black with bright green detailing. Her shoes—more like slippers with thick soles—were severely frayed, barely holding together at this point. _I_ have _been running for near on a full twenty-four hours, now, with barely any pause._ She’d stopped a few times, in the woods mostly, to give her muscles a chance to take a metaphorical power nap, and to drink from the river. _I only made it this far because I stayed hydrated_ , she knew, _but I’m quickly reaching my limits here._

She held her hands, cupped, out in the rain. Once they were filled enough, she pulled them back and gratefully drank. She then filled her hands again, and poured this batch of water down her neck, shivering slightly as it ran under her clothes and down her back.

_Okay. I’m wearing this…stuff. But…who am I?_

She looked at herself again. She stood up and compared her height to the door behind her. _I’d say I’m over five-and-a-half feet tall, but probably under six. In centimeters, that would be…._

She shook her head. _Completely irrelevant._ She scratched her head. _I have shoulder-length hair, and it’s extremely annoying to run with. My arms seem relatively unharmed, and I have a fair amount of muscle on both them and my legs._

She looked at herself in a puddle.

_Let’s be honest, I have to be pretty muscular and fit all over to have made a run like_ that _. So, I know that about me. But… no name._

She scowled. Somehow, that didn’t bother her. She didn’t need a name. Let others figure that out.

She couldn’t really remember much of what had happened to her before the past twenty-four hours or so. Mostly snippets, and even trying to drudge those up just caused severe headaches. Maybe it was something she shouldn’t push at the moment. To be honest, she didn’t even have the slightest idea where she was.

_Take stock_ , she reminded herself again. _What can I remember, and what can I figure out? What do I need next?_

As for her memory, she remembered suddenly finding herself amidst the rubble of a half-destroyed brick wall, a broken metal pipe with jagged edges in one hand. Her vision and thoughts had been muddled and foggy at first—maybe she had been drugged, and was coming out of it? She wasn’t sure, but she had acted rather…rash. She vaguely remembered feeling threatened and lashing out with her makeshift weapon. She was fairly confident that she hadn’t killed anyone, but it was still enough that people would be after her.

She couldn’t be caught, yet, though. Not until she figured out what was going on. She had disposed of the pipe in the river while she was in the woods. She hoped that would buy her more time.

_And now, here I am. But, where is here?_

She stepped out into the rain, keeping her back against the wall and inching alongside it until she could peer around the building and down the side street. At the end, she could see the intersection to a main street. There were bright, neon lights there, and it took her eyes a moment to adjust to them.

She inhaled sharply when she realized she couldn’t read any of the signs she saw.

_I may not know where home is,_ she thought, _but it’s clear that I’m_ very _far from it._

_Relax,_ she held one hand to her chest. _Surely, there’s going to be a sign that’s translated into a language you_ do _know. Right?_

She carefully walked down the alley to another side street. She looked down it, spotting another series of signs she couldn’t read. She scoured them, until she did manage to find one that had its meaning translated underneath the main sign. _Okina Station_.

_Okina?_ She shook her head, trying in vain to get water out of her hair. Rain still dripped down the strands into her face. _That’s definitely a foreign city. Well, foreign compared to my homeland. Now,_ I’m _the foreigner. But, why am I here? How did I get here?_

_First, which country am I in, exactly?_

She inched slowly to the edge of the alley. She heard a small group of people—no, more likely a couple—walking nearby. They stopped just out of view. _Convenient._

She made her breath as silent as possible, straining her hearing to eavesdrop.

“At least with term starting, there will be a lot less kids out there, making trouble all day.”

“Oh, don’t even start. You’re fond of those three that hang around the shop during break, and you know it.”

Her lungs froze.

She _knew_ that they weren’t speaking English, somehow, but… she understood them as if they were. But… _how_?

She tried to dig through her foggy memories, trying to figure out what might have caused this sorcery. All she got for her trouble, though, was another pulse of agony through her skull. Her veins burned. She stumbled back into the alley, retreating into the shadows again. Nausea overwhelmed her. She tried to get as far from the lights and people as she could, before she heaved.

She didn’t think that she could throw up _again_ , not after her two bouts of it last night. Nonetheless, she vomited the same, black sludge once again.

_What the hell is going on?_ She barely kept from snapping into a panic, as she wiped her mouth on her sleeve.

_RELAX!_ She shook her head, exhaling deeply. _Do what you can, as you can. First, I need to find a way to stay safe and alive. Especially after throwing up three times in the past twenty-four hours—at least—I’m definitely going to need to eat something. Something with protein or carbs might be a good thing to start with, a burst of energy to keep me going._

_Next, I’m going to need to find someplace safe and sheltered to sleep._

_After that, I will need to find money. I’m going to need to get better food to stay alive, eventually a comfortable place to hide out. I’m also going to need clothes. Preferably something that will keep my gender ambiguous. They’ll be looking for a woman._

She stumbled through the alley, until she came to a trash bin near a back door. She started digging through it. _It’s not likely but…_ She trailed off, just before her eyes widened. _Really?_

She pulled a small, unopened plastic package out of the trash. It contained something that resembled a pastry of some sort.

_I think I know about this,_ she racked her brain. _I think… this is… what is it called? Pan, or something? That’s… that’s Japanese for bread, right? Which means that the writing on this package—and, presumably, the signs—is probably a form of Japanese. Though, I have no idea what writing system is used here, nor what it says._

_But…I can understand the spoken form. It’s as clear to me as if spoken in English._

_Which gives me another clue to my identity. I speak English as my native tongue. Which narrows my own country of origin. It’s still quite a list, but…. It’s something._

_But, this means that I can deduce that I am likely in Japan._

She looked at her reflection again in a nearby puddle.

_And, I am very clearly_ not _Japanese. My facial structure, my tanned skin tone. And, I’m tall for a woman in most countries to start with. I’m definitely tall for a Japanese woman. I might even be tall for the average_ man _. I stand out. This is bad._

_This is really bad._

_I’m going to need clothes that disguise my gender, or at least make it harder to determine at a glance. And, I’m going to need sunglasses. Large ones. I’ll need to obscure my face, however much I can._

_But, if I try too hard, I’ll just stand out even more._ She sighed.

_One thing at a time. I have food for now. Next, I need someplace to sleep._

The sound of footsteps in water made her turn sharply.

She locked gazes with a dog—an Akita, she believed—who had stopped to look at her. The golden-furred animal held a half-eaten chicken leg in its mouth. It tilted its head at her, whining in curiosity.

She started to walk towards it. It turned and calmly walked down the alley.

_Maybe it knows someplace dry to sleep._ She theorized.

A memory flashed in her mind—one that _didn’t_ cause pain, for once.

Yes, she’d slept with strays on the street before, hadn’t she? Well, she had no qualms about smelling like wet dog in the morning. She’d be replacing her clothes, anyway. Somehow.

_One thing at a time._

She’d find a dry place to eat and sleep. Then, in the morning, she’d find money and clothes. If she understood Japanese, then maybe that same sorcery would allow her to speak it. Then, she’d find some way to get further away from where she’d started. A small, rural town would be best. It made little sense, really, but that made it the best place to hide.

_Go where they don’t expect you to be._

Then, she’d try to piece her life back together.

In the morning.


	2. Into the Rain

“Sorry we’re late,” Naoto said with a sigh, before taking her seat at the food court table. “We ran into… an undesired distraction.”

“She means,” Kanji sat down next to her, “that we ran into a bunch of punks at the bus stop.”

“Punks?” Chie repeated.

“Just a few students from our year,” Naoto attempted to dismiss the subject. “They had some asinine comments intended to cause a negative reaction out of us.”

“What?” Yosuke asked around the straw of his drink, raising an eyebrow.

“They tried to insult them,” Yukiko clarified.

“Oh.”

“I thought that had died down,” Chie said.

“Apparently not,” Naoto attempted a tone of finality. She lifted her pack onto the table, unzipping it.

“It’s been a year,” Chie continued anyway. “You’d think that people would grow up.”

Kanji focused his attention on a section of the nearby fence.

“A-Anyway,” Naoto tried to redirect the conversation. She pulled out a folder from her pack. “The reason I had us meet today was this email I got last night.” She looked up, glancing about the table. “Where’s Teddie?”

“Oh!” Yosuke lit up. He half-turned to look behind him. “Yo! Ted! Over here!” He waved over towards the living bear costume.

Teddie’s expression brightened, as the strange bear waddled over to the table. He took his seat, next to Yosuke.

“Heeeeelloooo!” Teddie said cheerfully. “Hi, Kanji! Hi, Nao-chan!”

Naoto’s gut churned, and she pulled on her cap’s brim, lowering it over her eyes. _Why does he insist on calling me that? Not even Grampa uses that name. I really should request that he call me_ Naoto-kun _like everyone else._

_Though, he certainly doesn’t seem to understand why Yukiko-senpai dislikes his obsession with “stud hunting.”_ She frowned, as she handed out printouts to each of the others. _Not that I really know what the story behind that is, myself._ She cleared her throat.

“As I mentioned, I received an email last night, from Detective Kurosawa-san.”

“Kurosawa?” Yosuke repeated, taking his copy. “Isn’t that the detective that you worked with this past May?” He glanced about, before lowering his voice. “When you investigated the Shadow Operatives, I mean.”

Naoto gave a small nod.

“I thought he was asking me to take on a case personally, but it turned out that he was simply forwarding information that he suspected could affect us.”

“No wonder!” Chie breathed. “Shadow activity?” She kept her voice low. She took her jacket off of her waist and put it on over her shoulders. “Is this really…?”

“I read through the reports multiple times last night,” Naoto said. “I have no doubt that Shadows are involved. I also noted two other, minor details that the original report included as little more than footnotes.”

“What do ya mean?” Kanji asked, flipping back and forth between the stapled pages.

“There were two other points of evidence,” Naoto explained, “or, more accurately, two points of the same type of evidence. They found strange, black sludge. Kurosawa-san and his team suspect that it’s some sort of Shadow substance. Er,” she hesitated, glancing at the food her upperclassmen were eating. Cheap steak, but still not worth ruining. “The sludge was presumably remains of some sort, judging by what it was, er, mixed in.”

“What was it mixed with—?” Chie cut herself off, reading her printout. “Oh.”

“Wait.” Yosuke shook his head. “Are you saying that someone _actually_ —!” He caught himself, lowering his voice before continuing. “Are you saying that someone _actually_ tried to _eat_ a Shadow?”

 “The evidence certainly suggests that situation, yes.” Naoto tugged on the brim of her hat. “Though, it’s clear that the subject, er, failed to properly ingest.”

“Who would be crazy enough to eat one of those things?” Yosuke laughed, elbowing Chie in the arm.

“Are you implying that—?” She snapped. “I’ve told you, that was just an illusion! Or, should I tell them that—?”

Yosuke made a strange, incoherent sound, like he was trying to form six different words at once.

“No one needs to know about that!”  His face turned red. “A-anyway!” He cleared his throat, leveling his voice again. “You think that this could have something to do with us? With the Midnight Channel and Teddie’s world?”

“I haven’t noticed anything different over there since…” Teddie started. “It’s been beary peaceful, just like it’s supposed to be.”

“Except, we know that there are other places—and times—that Shadows can be found, now.”

“Right,” Yukiko said. “Those other Persona-users we met in May—the Shadow Operatives—mentioned that. They said it was called the Dark Hour, yes?”

“There’s currently no evidence suggesting anything for the source of the Shadows,” Naoto said. “And, there’s nothing pointing to whoever might be involved.”

“But, there’s only one person mentioned in this report,” Yukiko replied. “Couldn’t they be the person responsible?”

“No.” Kanji shook his head. “Look the first report. There were a whole bunch a’ kidnappings within a couple hours of each other. In multiple countries. Look at this list. Russia, Brazil, Poland, Canada, Greece, Egypt, the United States, Australia, the Netherlands… there’s no way that these could ’ave all been done by the same person, or even by a _small_ group. These places are all too far apart.”

“If they are all connected to each other, yes.” Naoto nodded.

“Not to mention, there wasn’t a single one that occurred in Japan.” Kanji scanned the list again, before flipping to the next page. “But, this strange figure, the Shadow-eater, was definitely in Japan. Bugs me that there’s no real description of ‘em, though.”

“It was late at night,” Chie pointed out. “And, they were acting really bizarre.”

“The injuries were minor,” Naoto said. “And, what little the report has of the witnesses’ stories suggests that the subject was inebriated in some manner.” She clasped her fingers against her mouth. “Something here doesn’t… feel right.”

A loud vibration broke her trail of thought.

Naoto pulled out her phone out of her backpack.

_An email?_ She blinked at the screen. _And it’s from Kurosawa-san._

“What’s up, Naoto?” Kanji asked.

“Kurosawa-san just sent me an update.” She scanned the email. “They’ve found a third sample of that sludge-like substance. In Okina.”

“Okina?” The others exclaimed in unison.

“But, that would mean that they’re heading this way!” Yosuke stared at his drink.

“Could it be because the Inaba region allows access to the Midnight Channel?” Yukiko suggested. “I mean, that _does_ seem to be a source for Shadows.”

“Should we go into the TV and investigate for anything weird?” Chie asked.

“…No.” Yosuke eventually shook his head. “We’re short two members of our Team. And, to complicate it further, it’s our leader and our main support. Yu has the greatest adaptability and leadership skills of our group, and Rise’s Persona’s scanning power and ability to contact us anywhere in that world is almost a complete necessity.”

“Those are some big words, Yosuke,” Chie said with a grin.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Yosuke glared at her.

“Maybe we should see if Rise could come back,” Kanji cut the argument short. “She might be able to take a few days off, at least. So that we could handle this.”

“Except, we don’t even know what ‘this’ is, yet.” Yosuke shook his head. “We should wait until we have something more concrete before we try to drag Rise or Yu back to Inaba.”

“I agree with Yosuke-kun,” Yukiko said. “Rise-chan and Yu-kun would likely only be able to come for a few days at a time, and possibly only on holidays. We shouldn’t waste that time.”

“I concur, as well.” Naoto nodded. “Alerting them to the situation when we have so little concrete information may only cause them worry, especially if they are unable to come to Inaba at present.”

“So, then,” Yosuke said, “shall we agree to just keep our eyes open for now? Stay alert, and if something happens in the next couple days… well, we’ll cross that bridge when and if we come to it?”

“It’s either that or run ’round like idiots, lookin’ for trouble.” Kanji said.

“Yeah.” Chie nodded.

“What do you think, Naoto-kun?” Yukiko asked.

Naoto blinked. _Why is she…?_ She thought quickly. _Do they expect me to…to challenge Yosuke-senpai? Why? He_ is _stepping up to a more leadership role than in the past, but that’s most likely due to Yu-senpai’s absence, combined with Yosuke-senpai being the closest to him._

_Maybe it’s because I’m the one who brought this information to them? Am I the closest thing we have to an expert, then?_

_Regardless, I don’t really care. I have no desire to take command._ She glanced down at the table. _Even if I did, I’m by no means ready to lead. This isn’t a typical case; even the few I've looked into for Kurosawa-san already had more evidence to work with than this. No, Yosuke-senpai’s the best choice out of the six of us._

“Yes.” She paused. “The evidence suggests that this person is moving at a significant speed, possibly constantly. If they persist at the same rate, they’ll likely be in the Inaba region sometime within the next twenty-four hours.” _If they haven’t already arrived._ “For now, we know of the possibility, and can be alert for anything that _could_ happen.”

Yosuke nodded again. He turned to Teddie, who had been strangely quiet the whole time.

“Can you keep an eye on your world for us?” Yosuke asked. “Let us know if there’s absolutely _anything_ out of the ordinary.”

“Sure thing!” Teddie said brightly. “I’m working the late shift for the next few days, so it’ll be even easier for me to keep an eye on our entrance!”

“Well, that’s certainly convenient.” Naoto allowed herself a small smile. “Besides, term just started. I believe it would be best if we aimed to at least _attempt_ to focus on our studies before something distracts us from them.”

“Y-yeah,” Chie agreed. “I have some pretty serious exams coming up.”

“You’re still planning on becomin’ a cop, right, senpai?” Kanji asked.

“Yep!”

“That’ll be a sight,” Yosuke muttered.

His comment was rewarded with a sharp elbow to the gut.

Yosuke made a loud choking sound, before doubling over, nearly spilling his drink as he collapsed onto the table.

“Geez, Chie,” he wheezed, “it was a _joke._ ”

“I’m beginning to suspect you _enjoy_ eliciting aggressive responses from her.” Naoto raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” Yosuke seemed to have trouble thinking through his pain.

“She thinks you _like_ it when Chie hits you,” Yukiko clarified.

“ _What?_ ” Yosuke repeated in a higher pitch.

Naoto’s phone went off again. She ignored Yosuke’s retorts to find out who had sent her a text.

_Naoki-kun_.

_Huh_ , she blinked at the name. _That’s odd. I wonder what he could want._

“Well,” Naoto stood up, gathering her things. “If there’s nothing else, I should probably try to get home before dark.”

“Nah,” Yosuke said, still pouting. He did soften his expression before continuing, however. “Have a good night, Naoto-kun!”

“Good night!” The other girls echoed.

“Night, Nao-chan!”

Kanji simply gave her a stiff nod, before she turned and started to leave the food court.

She was almost to the elevator, when she heard the sound of someone running up beside her. She looked up to see—

“Kanji-kun?”

“O-on second thought,” he stammered slightly, “I-I should probably walk you, er, pa-partway, at least. In-in case those punks are st-still hanging around.”

“I think I can handle myself,” Naoto said. “If nothing else, I can always remind them that—as a detective—I am licensed to carry a firearm.”

Kanji stared.

“Though, I won’t say no to the company,” she said, hiding her chuckle.

 

…

…

 

“I make really poor choices,” she muttered to herself. She held onto the frame of the truck, watching as the forested countryside as it sped into the distance.

She wrapped her jacket closer against her body. She’d managed to find a rather beaten trench coat in a large trash bin. It wasn’t the greatest, of course, but it would do for the time being. It would, at least, allow her to hide her jumpsuit somewhat. It smelled odd, though, like some sort of bad cheese.

She’d wash it in the river, next time she came across one. That should help, at least somewhat.

_Come to think of it,_ she gave her wrist an experimental sniff, _I could use a good scrub, myself. I definitely smell like wet dog._

She pulled out a couple of banknotes and a handful of small coins.

_To be honest, I’m not sure how much money I have here. I don’t think I_ ever _knew the value of the yen, even before whatever happened to blank my memory._

_Though, I’m not sure I’d have forgotten that type of thing, even if I had known._ She realized. _I seem to know how to move around the city, while minimizing my appearance, despite my size. I still know various bits of information about_ things _, like a few languages, countries, foods, general things like that._

_It’s just when it comes to_ me _that my memory starts to short-circuit._

She looked at the money again, before stuffing it back in her pocket.

_Hopefully, I have about five bucks worth of money, here._

_Bucks._ The word echoed in her mind. _That’s slang. For dollar. That narrows down my country of origin. A lot._

_I think._

_Well, I’m probably not British, at least._

She exhaled loudly.

_One thing at a time. I need to get off of this truck, preferably_ before _it reaches its destination, and I’m discovered._

She _had_ planned on just scrounging up enough change in alleys and so forth to buy a ticket to the next town, but….

But, she had only been able to find this jacket. And she still smelled _far_ too bad to even dare approach another person. She still needed some way to subtly obscure her face, too.

Yet, she couldn’t stay in that city—Okina, right?—any longer. Something, some sort of instinct she couldn’t explain, was pulling on her. She had to keep going until she reached her destination.

Wherever that was.

_Maybe this is how birds know their migration path, or how cats can always find their way home, no matter how off-course they seem to be._

So, in any case, when she’d seen the delivery truck getting ready to set off, out near the outskirts of Okina, she made a split-second decision, and snuck into the open back.

_Just another crime to add to my list,_ she resisted a chuckle. _At least the only person who might get hurt this time is me._ She watched as a line of shrubbery passed by on the side of the road closest to the truck. She felt the vehicle start to slow.

_Is it stopping? Or is there just a curve or dip up ahead?_

_Either way, I might not get another opportunity like this!_ She took a deep breath, steeling herself. She gripped the side of the truck, bracing against it, waiting as the truck slowed considerably. She grabbed the opposite side of her jacket with her free hand, preparing to cover herself—particularly her face—with it. Soon, the truck had slowed considerably, and she took the opportunity, launching herself out of the back and into the bushes.

The jacket had served as a decent enough shield for her face and forearms. If nothing else, it prevented her from being scratched up. The leapt itself had miraculously not injured her, either, though it certainly hadn’t felt _good_. She lifted her head out of the undergrowth, cautiously looking in the direction the truck had been going.

It was gone, completely out of sight.

She stood up, brushing herself off.

“Well,” she allowed herself a chuckle, “that could have gone a _lot_ worse.” She stepped out of the shrubbery and onto the thin strip of dirt between it and the road. “Could have gone _better_ , I suppose, but let’s try to stay positive.” She walked down the side of the road for a while, until she came across a large sign. Most of the lettering was still completely foreign to her, but it did have one number—a three—which she assumed was the distance in kilometers to the next town or city. There was also a single word—perhaps the city’s name—translated into English at the very bottom of the sign.

“Well, then.” She brushed at her shoulders. “First, I’m going to find that river—I can hear it from here—and wash this stench off as best I can. Then, it looks like I’m headed to Inaba.”

_And, maybe,_ she thought, as she strode through the trees, _I can find out what is pulling me in that direction. And_ why.

 

…

…

 

Kanji waited until the apartment’s door was closed before he turned and started to walk away.

_You’re being stupid_ , he scowled to himself. _If there’s anyone in our group that needs protection, it ain’t_ Naoto _._

His thoughts were interrupted by the first drops of rain.

_Explains why it’s getting dark faster than normal._ He removed his glasses to quickly wipe them on his shirt. _And, I don’t have a jacket._ He sped up his pace. _I am an idiot._

Rainwater dripped from his bangs into his eyes. He briefly missed having his hair gelled back. If nothing else, it certainly kept it out of his way.

_But, that ain’t what I’m goin’ for, anymore._

He sneezed.

_Aw, crap. I better not get a cold. Ma would never shuddup about it._

He broke into a light jog.

_She’s gonna’ to give me hell, as it is; I am gonna be late. Why did I have to walk her all the way home? I thought I was gonna leave at the bus stop. Instead, I go halfway ‘cross town…_

His thoughts were broken by his phone vibrating in his back pocket. He stopped running, pulling it out. He wiped rain from the screen to read the name on it.

_Hmm?_ He blinked. _Did I forget something? But… I didn’t even go up to…._

_NAOKI-KUN WANTS 2 KNOW: AIYA TOMORROW? Y/N_

Kanji hesitated.

He and Naoki had been good friends as kids, until Kanji’s own insecurities had led him to start pushing people away. They’d grown apart. But, after Yu and the others had helped him overcome those insecurities—at least, to _really_ start—he’d reached back out and reestablished that friendship. They’d spent a good deal of their summer break catching back up, and with Naoto back in Inaba after working on several cases, slowly coming out of her shell and spending more time with Kanji, too—they’d just kind of formed a trio. Naoki had been in her class as first years, but she’d been… difficult for most to talk to. First, it was because she was the Detective Prince—and, to be honest, kind of a jerk. Then, she’d been too busy with the Team—especially with the investigation—to branch out much.

Maybe it was part of how he was coping with the loss of his sister, but Naoki had been very… eager to spend time with them. Especially as a group.

_Not that I can blame the kid_ , Kanji admitted. _I know what it’s like to feel alone._

_We all do._

He flipped his phone open and shut a few times, before managing to send out a reply.

_Sure, I’m cool._

Whatever reply she sent—if any, she wasn’t big on long conversations, at least not with phones—could wait until he got home.

_Wait a second._ He blinked, as he started jogging again. _Naoki texted_ her _to hang out? He’s always texted_ me _to set things up. That’s—!_

His thoughts were interrupted once again, this time by a trio of motorcycles. As they sped past, they each splashed him with a burst of rainwater.

_Agh!_ He shook his head, water spraying everywhere. His glasses were completely saturated, and his clothes were too wet to dry them off. He decided to just take them off and toss them in his pack. He looked up, watching as the bikers vanished into the distance. _Pricks. I oughta…_

He exhaled.

_No. No, just let it go._

_I just need to head home._

A tall figure dashed out in front of him. They both stopped for a brief moment, glancing at each other. It was hard to get a good look without his glasses, and in the rain, but he could tell that this person—possibly a man, by their build—was tall, not much shorter than Kanji himself. They were dressed in loose cargo pants and a long trench coat, their face half-hidden under a fisherman’s hat. Rainwater dripped down the brim in thick torrents.

“I…I apologize,” they said with slight bow, before continuing to run across the street.

Kanji blinked, watching as they vanished into an alley on the other side. Before he could continue on his way, a dog trotted out of the same alley the odd person had come from. It stopped, looked up at him and barked once, before it dashed across street after the person.

Kanji hesitated again.

_I really need to get home; Ma’s gonna be pissed with me as it is._

But…

There was something very odd about that guy. And, they’d _just_ discussed the possibility of a strange and likely dangerous person that afternoon.

_It’d be stupid of me if I just ignored that guy._

_But, if they’re dangerous, then it’d be a really bad idea to go after them alone. There’s no reason to be reckless._

He exhaled deeply.

_What would Senpai do? Go after them? Or just leave ‘em?_

_What would Naoto do?_

“Aaagh, damn it!” He shouted. He turned and ran across the street after the strange person and the dog.

_I’m freakin’ nuts!_ He stopped just in front of the alley. _I’m gonna catch a cold._

He heard someone’s voice shudder incoherently.

Kanji quickly got against the wall of one of the buildings. He crept alongside it, the pressure of the wall rough against his back and bare shoulders. He took each step slowly, careful to make as little sound as humanly possible.

“God, it’s cold tonight.” Kanji heard them mutter to themselves. They weren’t far away, likely a short distance around the corner of the building he was leaning against. “I hope this coat is enough. I need to find shelter.”

_Oh, they’re on the run from something, all right._ Kanji smiled. _But… I still can’t tell if they’re a guy or a chick. Their height and shape suggests a guy, but their voice…._

_But, I know better than to assume either way._ Kanji shook his head. _Especially on evidence that flimsy._

_A better question is… who are they? And what do they want?_

“I’ve got to keep going,” they muttered. “I think I’m… close, but… why…?”

_Close?_ Kanji’s eyes widened. _Were they_ really _coming to Inaba on purpose, like Yosuke-senpai said?_

“Why…?” They repeated. “Oh, god, no, wh-why…?”

_Wha—?_

Kanji heard the sound of the person retching.

“D-damn… it,” they moaned. “Not… again.”

_Again?_

A realization hit Kanji.

There had been some sort Shadow stuff found, mixed with vomit.

“Why?” They muttered again. “You…can you understand me?”

Kanji froze.

_Do they know I’m here?_ He held his breath. _Am I screwed?_

“Probably only just the gist of things,” they continued. “Honestly, I’m most likely just _losing_ it from not talking much. But, if you can take me somewhere I can get out of the rain, somewhere out of sight, I’d appreciate it.”

Kanji felt panic rise in his chest.

He heard the sound of a dog barking.

_Oh!_ Another realization hit him. _The dog! They’re just talking to the dog._ He allowed himself a silent sigh of relief.

“Go on, boy,” they said with a laugh, before Kanji heard them walk, the sound of their footsteps revealing that they were walking away from him.

Once the sound had vanished into the distance, Kanji quickly walked to the corner and turned to face the area he’d heard the strange person just moments before.

The alley was empty, save for the trash can near the store’s back door.

Kanji walked carefully over to the trash can, lifting the lid.

_Perfect!_

A newspaper was clearly visible. He pulled a page of the paper out. He turned around.

_I have to keep it from washing away in the rain,_ Kanji looked at the puddle of vomit on the floor, near the back wall of the store. There was much less of the black sludge than in the pictures from the report printouts—those had been nearly entirely black—but it was certainly still mixed in with the rest of the…barf. _Did they really try to eat a Shadow? That’s… messed up._ He placed the newspaper over the vomit, shielding it from the rain.

Kanji pulled out his cell phone again, flipping it open. Naoto was the closest to the site.

_I think I just ran into that person. They got away but we have proof. More of that black stuff. I figure you want to see it, before it was too late._

Kanji leaned back against the opposite wall. He sighed, before looking at his phone again.

_ABSOLUTELY. WHERE R U?_

Kanji gave another sigh. Before he could reply, however, his phone lit up again.

_ARE U OK?_

Heat spread across Kanji’s face.

_I’m fine. It’s behind the old bakery, just down the street._

_STAY THERE. WILL BE 5 MIN._

Kanji closed his phone. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to be home until really late tonight—if he made it home at all.

_Sorry, Ma._

He looked at the newspaper, the words even blurrier than normal from the rain. He tried in vain to shake water out of his hair.

He sneezed.

_Ah, damn it._


	3. Port in a Storm

Naoto finished buttoning her shirt, before grabbing her hat from the nightstand. She lumbered slowly out of her bedroom, and into the apartment’s kitchen. She put the cap on, rubbing at her neck.

Why was everything so damn sore?

_Well, falling asleep before I could fully undress from the day likely did nothing to assist the situation._

She had managed to get her uniform shirt off the night before, after she had returned home—again—before she’d practically collapsed into bed. But, that had meant that she hadn’t removed any _other_ articles of clothing.

_Granted, last year had been far worse._

While she’d had no real sense of time when she’d been tossed into the Midnight Channel the previous year, she knew it had been at least a few days. And, her binder had been much tighter then. Still, sleeping in one, even unintentionally, was… ill-advised.

_It is an improvement_ , she admitted to herself, _over the bandages, in any case_. She stumbled over to the coffee maker, fiddling with it, succeeding with starting the device purely out of muscle memory. She remembered, in her early morning haze, when she’d first started presenting as male. She’d been… undeveloped, then; it wasn’t entirely unheard of for a twelve-year-old. But, by her thirteenth birthday, it was impossible to hide with just clever clothing choices. In her terror, she’d initially tried to use bandages to flatten her chest. It had technically worked, but she’d had absolutely no experience or reference and was unaware that the bandages simply compressed her entire chest, including her ribcage. Even the simplest of movements would spark jolts of pain, and it constricted her airflow. Her grandfather caught on quickly, and—horrified that she was hurting herself—discreetly made sure that she had proper binding garments. She still used them today… just nowhere near as tightly.

There had been other… details she had to hide. Or hide her lack thereof. Her preference for shirts with tall collars hid the fact that her larynx was smaller than a man’s. Her height had also been an obvious point; while plenty of Japanese boys were on the shorter side, even in their teens, Naoto’s insecurities had been tied into her age, even more than her gender. She had tried altering her diet to encourage growth spurts, to appear older. It _had_ worked, admittedly, just not with her _height_.

_Ironic,_ Naoto scowled, watching as the coffee pot continued to fill with the aromatic brew. _I had no desire for an… endowed bust. Quite the opposite, actually. And, yet…._

In any case, she had resorted to elevator shoes to artificially add some height.

_Finally._ The coffee was done. She pulled a travel mug out of the cupboard—she could take the second serving for her walk to school. She carried the filled mug—warmth pulsing from it and through her aching hands—over to the table. The tightly sealed, labeled jars still sat on it, next to several stacks of paper and her laptop—which was off, for once.

_That’s right,_ she gingerly sat down. _I had to gather the evidence and start the documentation process last night. I sent the email to Kurosawa-san right before bed, but asked him to not officially file the report just yet._

She pulled one of the pages of her documentation in front of her, and started to skim it half-heartedly.

_There’s just something not adding up._ Naoto scowled, taking a slow sip. _Maybe, if we could catch the suspect, I could…._ She rubbed at the back of her neck again. _Class this morning is going to be highly unpleasant._

_At least I got to go to bed at all. I might never had gotten this all done in time if Kanji-kun hadn’t—_

“Mornin’,” a familiar, deep voice said in a low tone just behind her.

“Kanji-kun!” Her voice cracked from the surprise, as she turned sharply to face him. If her coffee had been in a normal mug, the hot beverage would likely have been spilled all over her arm.

The lethargic teenager was standing a short distance from her chair, blinking slowly at her in mild confusion. A pale green blanket was draped over his shoulders, almost obscuring the fact that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

“I forgot!” Naoto blurted, before she recomposed herself. “I mean, I had forgotten that you’d….” She cleared her throat, and pulled down on her hat’s brim. There was no real way to recover from that, was there?

She _had_ utterly forgotten that it had been well after midnight when she’d finally finished the paperwork—or at least, finished it enough to warrant sleep. Kanji was going to head home—something about how his mother was going to “give him hell”—but Naoto couldn’t, in good consciousness, let him walk halfway across town late at night, not alone, not with a potential killer on the loose. She’d insisted that he spend the night on her couch and, after a quarter of an hour’s worth of debating the subject, he had eventually agreed.

Though, his expression suggested that he had slept even less than she had—if at all.

“There’s coffee.” She pointedly turned away, redirecting her gaze back to the paperwork. “If you want some.”

“No thanks.”

_Kanji-kun doesn’t drink coffee,_ a voice reminded her. _You_ knew _that._

“It’s still raining,” Naoto tried to find something to break the atmosphere.

_You sound like an imbecile._ The voice continued to taunt her.

“Yeah,” Kanji said with a yawn. “At least it’ll help hide that I didn’t get a shower last night.”

“What?” She turned and blinked at him. “You could have utilized my shower; I wouldn’t have taken offense or anything of the—”

“The shower’s attached to your room.” Kanji focused his gaze on the floor.

“Oh.”

Heat spread across her face again. She shook her head.

“Sorry.”

“’S’all right.” He cleared his throat. “I keep an extra shirt in my shoe locker, so I’ll just head to school early.” 

“By yourself?” Naoto looked at him. “It’s still raining,” she repeated. “You spent an excessive amount of time out in it last night, and now you want to walk to school without an umbrella? You can’t _really_ get sick from the rain, but the cold _will_ make you more susceptible to contracting a disease.” _It doesn’t help that school is already a breeding ground for illnesses, especially at the start of term._

“S’cool.”

“If I didn’t permit you to walk home alone last night, do you _really_ believe I’ll allow you to walk to school by yourself, either?” _Especially at such an early hour._

“Uh…” He blinked at her. “Wh-what?”

“Like I stressed last night, there is a potential _killer_ loose in Inaba. It would be remiss of me to allow _any_ of our friends to walk around town unaccompanied.” She took a long sip. “Come to think of it, I should text Chie-senpai and make sure that she walks with Yukiko-senpai and Yosuke-senpai.” She paused. “I almost wish that I could carry my handgun to class.”

“Uh…” Kanji stammered. “I’m gonna go wash my face.” He turned sharply and staggered over towards the half-bathroom.

Naoto raised a brow at the now-empty space.

_I used to think that Yu-senpai was the hardest read in the Team._ She stood up. _But, even spending nearly half the summer with him and Naoki-kun, Kanji-kun’s thought process is still quite the conundrum._ She never expected that, out of the Investigation Team, _Kanji_ would be the one she didn’t understand. He was typically rather… straightforward with his words when the whole group was together.

She stood up, staggering over to the refrigerator. _But,_ she pulled out two of the rectangular boxes from the stack, _once the group breaks down into smaller numbers, his disposition fluctuates back and forth. Sometimes, he’s just as frank as before, but…_

She shook her head again.

_One mystery at a time._

She closed the fridge, carrying the bento boxes back to the table.

Naoto frowned, glancing at the sealed evidence jars.

_Maybe I_ shouldn’t _place boxes of food on the same table as samples of…_

She cleared her throat.

“If you want, we can head out now.” Naoto didn’t turn around.

“How’d you know I was back?”

She hesitated. “I’m a detective; I’ve learned how to hear when someone approaches from behind.” She scratched at the back of her neck. “It’s actually saved my life on multiple occasions.”

_And I almost let it get me killed on one_.

“Anyway!” Naoto found herself suddenly desperate to change the subject, grabbing her coffee mug. “You said you wanted to head to school early. Once I refill my mug, I should be adequately prepared, if you’re ready to leave.” She turned around.

Kanji was folding the blanket. He blinked at her, before sharply turning and returning it to the drawing room couch.

“…Sure,” he eventually said.  

“Here.” She walked over to him, stiffly offering one of the bento boxes.

“What?”

“You’re already skipping breakfast. It would be—negligent—of either of us to disregard lunch, as well.”

“I—!” Kanji turned his head, focusing his gaze on the wall. “I—can’t—!”

“It’s not like I made it myself, or anything.” She suddenly couldn’t look at him, either. “Just… either take it, or don’t.”

Though he didn’t respond—verbally—she felt him take the offered box from her hands. She continued to not look at him—not that she was _avoiding_ looking at him, that would be preposterous and—and _absurd_ —as she placed her own bento in her bag and grabbed her mug and umbrella.

“Sh-shall we?” She walked to the door, still not turning to look at him. She knew he was following her out, regardless. The silence weighed on her shoulders as they descended the stairwell. She stopped briefly at the edge of the overhang to gaze at her motorbike, parked in the nearest spot she could—legally—manage.

Even in the rain—especially in the rain—she still found the moped to be one of the most exhilarating aspects of her life. Not that Naoto would ever admit it out loud. It was childish: the love of the adrenaline rush one got as the world tore by, wind against every unshielded part of oneself. It was even better in the rain, as each drop pelted against oneself, the sound almost rhythmic against one’s helmet—though it added the downside of being utterly soaked afterwards—and wet clothes had a tendency to make her… even more self-conscious.

She had endeavored to be more accepting of her more childish aspects, to understand that they were just as much a part of herself as any other trait. But… this was… different somehow. A part of herself she’d much rather keep private. It wasn’t like it was something that could ever hold anyone back; it was a guilty pleasure, nothing more, nothing less.  

_I wonder_ , she mused while opening her umbrella, _if it would be worth taking it back to the estate and getting a sport bike instead._ She almost instantly shook the thought. _I’m not licensed for a vehicle that powerful, and won’t be eligible to be until at least my next birthday. Besides_ , she lifted the umbrella over her head and stepped out into the rain, _I wouldn’t have time for frivolous drives, wandering around the countryside. I need to focus on school and work._

Naoto still wished she could at least drive her moped to and from school. It certainly would have made today’s commute far less… destitute.

_Destitute?_ The voice—uncomfortably resembling her own—echoed in her head. _At least you’re not walking alone this morning._

_Right!_ The thought jolted through her; she looked to her left from the corner of her eye. Kanji was—technically—walking beside her. Barely. He was only half under the umbrella, still partially walking in the light morning rain. It had to be disorientating, she figured, to have one lens of his glasses saturated with rainwater and the other clear. His expression was the closest he usually got to neutral, just shy of a scowl, and he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

Well, as straight ahead as he could with his head bowed slightly, so as to fit under the umbrella’s canopy.

Naoto frowned. That was right. She was still short; she’d grown some over the past couple months, but it was hardly worth mention beyond medical record: just over two centimeters. Kanji was still roughly a head taller, even with Naoto’s thick shoes. She raised the umbrella a bit, hoping that she wasn’t being too obvious about it.

_Even if I could drive it to school,_ she realized, _I couldn’t have left Kanji-kun to walk alone in the rain._

_You could have given him a ride_ , that voice supplied.

_Riding pillion on a scooter—or moped—is illegal,_ she retorted almost instantly. Yet, the image materialized in her mind. She smiled, holding back a laugh. The idea of Kanji—a tall, muscular teenage boy—riding pillion behind a short person like her, and on a tiny moped like that…. Maybe it was unfair of her, but it was certainly an amusing image. She’d only ever seen him on his bicycle—even though he was old enough now for a scooter license, he still didn’t have one—but she had no clue how he’d react on an actual motorbike at all, let alone as a passenger. Logic dictated that he’d be just as zealous as he typically was—or would he despise it?

_Or_ , a new thought crossed her mind, _he could actually be terrified. It’s ridiculous, of course, to even consider Kanji-kun as skittish of something like a_ motorcycle. _No, he’d far more likely be even more into the adrenaline rush than Yosuke-senpai is._ Not that her self-correction didn’t stop the imagery from forming in her mind. Kanji, seated on a motorbike—likely painted black, perhaps with flames or similar detail work—his face contorted in a variation on the strained expression he made whenever his mother said something embarrassing, his hands gripped on the handlebars so tight that his knuckles threatened to rip out of his skin, his hair almost bleaching itself from the panic.

Naoto fought back another laugh. _That’s highly callous to imagine, let alone find amusement in._

_Ah,_ the voice returned, _except that he neither is licensed to drive a vehicle, nor does he own a motorbike of any classification. He would have to ride pillion, as you pointed out yourself._

That was true.

She figured that the others would be amused—for one reason or another—by the idea of Kanji riding pillion on a small motorbike, especially since—as the tallest member of their group—the driver would likely be distinctly shorter than him, as she’d already noted to herself. Depending on the exact Team member—and subsequent height difference—his grip around the driver could be… quite awkwardly placed. And the short length of a scooter’s seat meant—

Naoto shook her head.

That trail of thought was becoming—disconcerting. Especially considering the motorbike in her mind had suddenly turned into an eerily familiar dark blue moped.

“Do you want to hold the umbrella?” She asked forcefully.

“Hmm?” Kanji blinked at her.

“I’m… short.” She hesitated. Was the commute to school _always_ this long? “I can’t really hold it at an adequate height for… never mind.” She avoided looking at him.

She nearly jumped when she noticed the umbrella was gently lifted out of her hand. She glanced over from the corner of her eye. He hadn’t moved any closer, still only half-under it, but at least the umbrella was at a height that was clearly far more comfortable for him.

They didn’t speak again until they approached the school gate.

“Ya ain’t short.” Kanji didn’t look at her as he closed the umbrella, nor when he handed it back to her.

“You aren’t coming in?” She wasn’t sure how to respond to the statement—so she didn’t.

_Recreant,_ the voice—still far too evocative of her own—scorned at her deflection.

“Nah.” Kanji shook his head. “I just need a few minutes.” When she didn’t move, he continued. “If someone’s gonna kill me, I don’ think they’ll try anythin’ here. Too much chance of getting’ caught by other students.”

Naoto hesitated, before she simply walked through the doors into the school.

It was quiet, as it usually was when she arrived. She’d always arrived early to school, from the very first day she’d started at Yasogami High, just barely over a year prior. She placed her umbrella in its slot before making her way to her shoe locker. She liked the calm silence that hung over the building during the hour or so before the first real waves of fellow students started to arrive. Sometimes another student or two would get there around the same time as her, particularly that third-year in the drama club, but otherwise it provided her with solitude to prepare for the day in. Today, like most days, this consisted of calmly entering her classroom and sitting at her desk to study or read. If she was assigned to class duties for that day, she would be able to complete the chores before the other appointed student could even arrive.

An advantage of the beginning of term was that there was a lighter load of schoolwork, thus permitting her to spend more time catching up on various readings, especially the newest detective novels. Yet, this morning, she simply couldn’t focus on the printed characters on the page. It felt as if the ground was pulling at her, with some magnetic force, and her vision kept blurring.

The coffee wasn’t working as fast as usual this morning. She was used to functioning on a shorter length of sleep than she’d generally prefer. While on a case, she’d occasionally work through the night without any rest at all, and still work just as efficiently and effectively the next day.

So…why…?

“Naoto-kun?” A voice cut snapped her awake, making her suddenly aware that she’d dozed off in the first place. She shook her head, before looking up at the speaker.

“Kon—er, Naoki-kun,” Naoto caught herself. “Good morning.” She glanced away from her classmate. “I, er, fell asleep didn’t I?”

“Yep,” a voice spoke from the desk next to hers, before Naoki could nod.

Naoto glanced to her left, to see Kanji seated at his desk, half-heartedly looking over notes from a previous class. He’d changed his shirt—now wearing a button-up that would have passed for the proper uniform, had it not been a solid black—and his hair was slightly ruffled, still damp with rain.

She’d slept through _Kanji_ coming in and sitting next to her? The boy walked with the subtlety of an ox, and she had never been a heavy sleeper.

How tired _was_ she?

The front door slid open, announcing yet another arrival, though one that most certainly did _not_ bring any sort of mirth to her day—or to that of any of her classmates.

Kashiwagi looked over to the three students—Naoki was still standing almost directly beside Naoto’s desk—and scowled. Naoto felt Kanji tense from the cold stare, even without looking at him.

_Kashiwagi-san seems to hold almost as deep a grudge against Kanji-kun as she does against me_ , she mulled. _Though, I cannot fathom any reasonable explanation for the either grievance._

“Good morning, Kashiwagi-san!” Naoki said brightly, before taking his seat behind Naoto.

Kashiwagi’s scowl deepened, though she said nothing as she turned around and focused her attention on the chalkboard. Apparently, whatever cause or causes had led to her animosity towards them, it wasn’t on such a _personal_ level with Naoki.

Naoto wondered briefly if she could prove Kashiwagi’s treatment to be illegal, or at least against school policy. She knew it _was_ , it was just a matter of evidence.

She glanced out the window, thinking briefly about the evidence Kanji had helped her recover the previous night. Whoever the suspect was, they didn’t seem to be a local resident—if Kanji’s description held any weight to the matter, they were probably either homeless or on the run. Which meant that they’d spent all night in the rain.

_And will spend all day in it, too_ , she mused. _It’s supposed to rain, generally consistently, until sometime this evening. They’re not going to be having a_ pleasant _day, in any case._

“Great.” She heard Kanji grumble under his breath. Naoto followed his pained gaze to the chalkboard—more specifically, the notes Kashiwagi was writing for the morning’s lecture.

_Genetics._

Naoto grimaced.

_Apparently, my morning isn’t going to be enjoyable, either._

…

…

 

The rain fell consistently, even through their early dinner at Aiya’s. Now, standing just under the slight overhang in the front of the restaurant, Naoto hesitantly fiddled with her umbrella. Standing on the other side of Kanji from her, Naoki was doing the same.

Umbrella or not, she wasn’t eager to walk in the rain _again_. Even though she’d managed to stay dry, she’d spent the entire meal feeling as if she’d been caught in a downpour. The humidity hung in the very air.

“You sure you’re fine walking alone?” Naoki continued to stare forward.

There was a long silence, as they watched a fox—the one typically found at the nearby Shrine—trot down the sidewalk on the other side of the street.

“Sure,” Kanji eventually said with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not that far of a walk. Rain’s not gonna kill me.”

“Uh.” Naoki coughed. “Right.”

Naoto frowned on reflex. She sighed deeply, before opening her umbrella and stepping forward.

“I should probably head home,” she said. _I’ve put off replying to Kurosawa-san long enough._

“See ya,” Kanji said.

“Good night!” Naoki nodded.

Naoto started down the sidewalk towards the bus stop at the end of the Shopping District. She didn’t get far before a tall figure ran out of the alley, from just the other side of Marukyu Tofu; they turned and collided into her before either of them could fully acknowledge what was going on. Naoto fell backwards as they both collapsed onto the ground.

“Terribly sorry!” They said quickly, stumbling back onto their feet. They were dressed in a trench coat, a fisherman’s hat, and—bizarrely for the weather—a pair of obnoxiously large sunglasses; even from such a brief contact, Naoto could smell the scent of wet dog on them, as if—

—As if they’d spent all night in the rain with strays.

Before Naoto could recover and stand back up, they gave her an awkward nod before tearing down the street in obvious desperation.

“What on earth?” Naoto righted herself, turning to see—

Her thoughts were cut short by the roar of engines. Three motorcycles sped out of the same alley that the person in the coat had. They turned onto the main road and skidded to a halt. All three were dressed in the stereotypical leathers and blacks.

_What? A biker gang?_

“There’s the bastard!” The one in front yelled, pointing the direction the person in the coat had run down. He lead the others in speeding after them. To the north.

Towards Aiya’s.

And Kanji and Naoki.

Naoto tossed her umbrella aside, before running back as fast as she could back down the street.

It only took moments to catch back up—they didn’t have far to go. Not far past Aiya’s—towards Kanji and Naoki’s respective homes—she found them surrounded by the bikers, in front of the old hobby store. Kanji had his back towards them, as he had the person Naoto had run into—so to speak—pinned against the wall by the collar of their coat.

“’EY!” The leader of the trio barked. “Hand that punk over! We ‘ave some… business with ‘im.”  

“You can wait ya turn.” Kanji didn’t even look at them.

“Kanji,” Naoki said, backing away from the bikers, “maybe we should listen to them.”

Naoto started to shout out, but was caught off guard when one of the back bikers lifted his visor.

“Wait, did you say ‘Kanji?’” He sounded nervous.

Kanji loosened his grip slowly, before letting go and allowing the person in it slump to the ground.

“Stay,” he said firmly to them.

“Yes, sir!” They barked in clear terror.

Kanji turned around, taking off his glasses, to glare at the bikers.

“Shit!” The second of the back bikers yelled. “It’s Tatsumi!”

“Sorry, bro!” The other shouted as they turned around. “But your girlfriend ain’t worth this beatdown!” The two sped off, leaving their leader behind.

“COWARDS!” He yelled after them. “You get yer asses back here, or—!”

“Girlfriend?” The still-unidentified person asked, slowly standing up. “Girlfriend?” They repeated, glaring at the biker. “That’s what this is about? I told you this morning—I didn’t touch your girlfriend! If that _did_ happen, it wasn’t me! I mean, for one, I’m not even into chicks, and for another, she said it was a man—and I’m a woman!”

_Well, that’s one mystery solved_ , Naoto noted. It was largely irrelevant, overall, but it was a start.

“What?” The biker lifted his visor to stare at her.

“Is there a problem here?” Naoto spoke up, alerted them to her presence. “It’s illegal to have one’s motorbike on the sidewalk.” Well, _half_ on it, but the point still stood.

“And who are _you?_ ”

“Detective Shirogane.”

“Crap,” the biker breathed. “Nah, ain’t no problem here. Just havin’ a little chat.” He turned back to Kanji. “Just keep your dog leashed from now on.” He lowered his visor, before turning and speeding off after his partners.

“I probably should have arrested him,” Naoto said quietly.

Naoki slumped back against the building’s wall and slid to the ground.

“You all right, man?” Kanji asked, putting his glasses back on.

“Fine,” Naoki said, even as he dropped his umbrella, hands visibly twitching. “Though… I think I just lost a few years off my lifespan.” He gave a nervous chuckle.

“I dun blame ya, man.” Kanji scratched at the back of his head.

“Will someone please explain what’s going on?” Naoto approached them.

“Uh,” Kanji started.

The woman in the coat stumbled to one knee.

“I got screwed,” she said with a cough. “That’s what’s going on.” She shook with another coughing fit. “You’re a cop?” She looked up at Naoto.

“I’m a private detective.”

“So, yeah.” She looked down at the puddle of rain on the sidewalk. “I’m screwed.”

“Who exactly are you?” Naoto asked firmly.

The woman hesitated.

“That is an excellent question.”

“You are not Japanese.”

“…As far as I am aware.” She looked around. “I can see that there’s no easy way out of this. Can I request we go someplace beyond a main street? And, that we keep the police out of this?” She coughed. “The real cops, I mean.”

“Why?” Kanji stood in front of her, glaring down at the still-unnamed woman. “You got somethin’ ta hide?”

“I… don’t know, actually,” she hesitated, still avoiding their faces. “I can’t remember much past a couple nights ago.” She coughed again. “I think… someone’s been hurting me—maybe others, too. If they have access to police records… I’m screwed.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Naoto suddenly wished she had her gun.

“You said you’re a detective?” The woman looked at her, taking off her shades. The woman’s bluish-green eyes were bloodshot, likely from sleep deprivation. “Can you honestly tell me that you’ve never met so much as a single cop that you wouldn’t—or couldn’t—trust?”

Naoto scowled.

_You know nothing about justice, you little bitch_ ,the voice echoed in the back of her mind.

“Then, what makes you think you can trust us?”

The woman looked away.

“I don’t have much choice. I’m outnumbered here, and I kinda… twisted my knee.” She glanced up at Kanji. “Still, you didn’t turn me over to those punks, so I technically owe you.” She looked back at Naoto. “Besides, I’m going to die out here—or worse—if I don’t find someplace safe soon. Any port in a storm, right?”

“I feel lost here,” Naoki said.

The others all turned to look at him.

“Tha’s right,” Kanji said in a low voice. “You don’t know.”

“I got a message from a fellow detective the other day.” Naoto decided that they couldn’t keep their friend completely in the dark—though he probably would never believe anything about Shadows. “There was an incident a few cities away, and they were looking for the suspect involved.” Naoto motioned towards the woman. “It would appear that this person is the one they’re looking for.”

“So, they _are_ looking for me already.” The woman looked back at the sidewalk. “I am so _screwed_.”

“In the hypothetical situation that we grant you asylum and keep you from the police—for the time being—what are your intentions?”

“Intentions?” She blinked at her. “I…” She looked at the sidewalk. “Well, first, I’d like to get clean and fed—I do have a small bit of money for that. Then, try to piece together what I can. Try to remember who I am, what happened, why I’m clearly in a country I’m not a citizen of, that type of thing. From there, I have no clue. Start over, most likely.”

“What if you really are a criminal?” Naoto suggested.

“Then, you won’t have to arrest me; I’ll turn myself in.” She scratched at the back of her neck. “Pesky thing about my… amnesia? It’s given me this annoying set of morals. Maybe I always had them, but I won’t know until I can take ten minutes without having to just scramble to stay alive.”

_If she really is involved with Shadows somehow, then I can’t just turn her over to the cops. At best, they won’t know what to do with her and whatever she’s been a part of will get her killed in some manner. At worst, she’ll actually be some sort of Shadow herself and attack; if that’s the case, she could wipe out half the station before anyone could even_ react _._

An image of the Dojima family—a tall man and his young daughter—flashed before her eyes.

“How d’we know ya won’t try an’ kill us?” Kanji grabbed her by the coat’s collar, dragging her back to her feet.

“Even if I _was_ some crazed killer,” she hissed sharply in pain, “it’d be really stupid to attack those keeping me safe and hidden. There’d be no better way to draw attention to myself; I’d rather lay low. Plus,” she looked Kanji in the eye, “I’m fairly certain that you could beat me down with ease. Besides… I’ve already twisted my knee pretty bad, just from… this.” She coughed again. “And, I think I’m getting sick from being in the rain so much.” She laughed dryly. “I’m far too much of a mess to be any threat. Besides,” she looked at Naoto, “you’re a cop, right? You can always shoot me.”

_She’s definitely not Japanese_ , Naoto held back a scoff. _Still. If she’s telling the truth…_

_The last time I didn’t take the truth seriously right away, I almost got myself killed._

She looked at Kanji.

“Kanji-kun, would you kindly inform your mother that you’ll be home later than planned tonight?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“Neither Naoki-kun nor myself are going to be able to easily help a woman taller than us to my apartment.”

“What.” Both boys echoed at her.

“So you’ll help me?” The woman blinked at her.

“Perhaps.” Naoto shook her head, tossing drops of rain about. Her umbrella was still back where’d she’d dropped it. “If nothing else, you can sleep—handcuffed—on my couch. _After_ you answer every question you can.”

“Of course.” She nodded. “I’ll do what I can. I mean, I don’t even know my own name, but….”

“Hold up!” Kanji looked at Naoto, completely forgetting that he still had the unnamed-woman in his grip. “You’re letting this chick into your home?”

“We don’t have anywhere else safe to let her stay. She’s right; we can’t turn her into the cops, yet. She can’t stay with either of you; we can’t let a parent get directly involved. At best, they’ll turn her in to the cops without warning; at worst, they’ll get hurt if she turns out to be dangerous.”

They were silent for a long moment.

“Whatever you guys decide,” the woman said with a strained voice, “please decide sooner rather than later. We’re kinda just standing out by the main street.”

“I don’t like this,” Naoki said, slowly staggering to his feet. “And, I still feel like I have no idea what’s going on here.”

“You don’t have to get involved in this, Naoki-kun,” Naoto said, pulling on the brim of her hat. “If you want to forget all about it, you can.”

Naoki opened his mouth, hesitating, before shaking his head.

“No. I’m not going to be able to just forget about this; either this person is innocent and in trouble, or you’re in danger. Neither are situations I can just ignore.”

Naoto and Kanji stared at him for a long moment.

“We appreciate your concern, Naoki-kun.” Naoto nodded with a slight smile. “Thank you.”

Naoki blinked, before picking up his umbrella and staring at the sidewalk.

“Anyway,” Kanji said, letting the woman go, “I guess we’re not gonna change your mind, are we?”

Naoto’s smile widened, but she said nothing.

“Naoki,” Kanji looked at their friend, while he awkwardly wrapped one arm around the woman’s back to support her injured knee during the upcoming trek across town. “Could ya go to Shiroku and buy a bandage for ‘er knee? And some cold medicine? We’ll catch up wit’ ya there.”

“Kanji-kun,” Naoto started, as Naoki ran down the street and out of earshot. “Why send Naoki-kun to purchase those things? I have a more-than-adequate first aid kit and medicine cabinet at my apartment.”

“Ya need to call Yosuke about this,” Kanji said. “We can’t keep the Team in the dark. But, Naoki doesn’t need to get sucked into the whole thing, not if Shadows really _are_ involved.”

“Shadows?” The woman echoed.

“We’ll explain later,” Kanji said, pulling out his cell. “For now, I gotta call Ma. Two nights inna row; she ain’t gonna be happy with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I'm probably taking a bit of artistic licence with the exact workings of a binder. I don't currently use or possess one. (Bandages, however, especially ace bandages, really are extremely dangerous to use for chest bindings.)


	4. Lighting a Candle

“So,” Yosuke’s voice came from the laptop on the dining room table. “Let’s start from the beginning again. What’s the first thing you remember?”

The woman hesitated, ruffling her still-damp hair with a pale-grey towel. She was wearing a mildly oversized, grey track suit, her skin still slightly damp from the shower Naoto had permitted her to take. She was also—as promised—handcuffed to the dining room chair. More accurately, the handcuffs on her wrist were actually linked to a second pair to allow her to sit more naturally.  It was a just temporary measure, though. She was actually going to be chained to the safe in the office for the night—Naoto had found a spare futon in the office closet, and there wasn’t really a feasible way to chain her to the couch.

“Uh, the closest thing to a solid memory I can…” she broke off with a light cough. “I was standing in an alley, I think. Well, standing is a poor word. I was leaning against a wall, barely able to stand upright. It was night, but even still, my vision was dark and clouded. I couldn’t hear anything but my own breathing and heartbeat. I think I threw up. Maybe twice.”

“Explains the, uh, stuff the cops found.” Yosuke nodded on the screen. Naoto had set up the video call, to allow as many members of the Team to be a part of the conversation as possible.

Yukiko was unreachable—there had been a large, unexpected group at the inn and she couldn’t afford that long of a break. Teddie had the evening shift at Junes—Yosuke had insisted that he gain more independence and work shifts without him. Yu and Rise still weren’t involved—they were too far away to do much, and the rest of the Team hadn’t wanted to worry them. Chie, however, was already at Yosuke’s—something about it being “action flick night” or something.

“After that, I remember feeling… really threatened.” The woman stared up at the ceiling. “I guess I’ve had some sort of weapon training, because I instinctively grabbed some sort of broken pipe. I think I thought it was a knife, or….” She coughed again. “I remember feeling like I was being attacked by someone—no idea who, I might have been completely hallucinating—and I lashed out at them. I must have been really freaked out, because I haven’t had an aggressive urge since.”

“That’s freaky!” Chie pushed Yosuke out of frame to appear in his place. She ignored his incoherent protests. “Do you think you were drugged or something?”

“I must’ve been.”

“If our theory of Shadow involvement is accurate,” Naoto spoke from her own chair, diagonally from the woman, “then _that_ could be the cause of her altered state of mind.”

“Yeah,” Kanji said with a nod. He was leaning back against the wall behind Naoto. “Remember that Namatame? The Shadows made him act freakin’ nuts, too.”

“Oh, yeah!” Yosuke pushed Chie back out of frame to talk again. “You thought he was high, or something.”

“Except!” Chie gave him another shove. “Namatame took days to recover and think clear enough to talk to us. _She_ apparently recovered in just a few hours.”

“Maybe she wasn’t as exposed,” Naoto offered. “Or, maybe she did take longer to recuperate, but was in whatever building she had been kept in for most of the recovery. Or, maybe Shadows aren’t involved in this at all.”

“What _are_ Shadows?” The woman asked. “You’ve mentioned them a lot, but I have no clue what you’re talking about. I get the feeling you don’t mean this one.” She motioned at her shadow on the ground.

“Simply put,” Naoto said, “Shadows are born from humans and their emotions, though they typically are specifically created out of negative ones. Shadows with more solid personalities and wills attract weaker ones. If a strong-willed Shadow becomes enraged, it can fuse with those nearby to create a very powerful creature.”

“So… they come from us?” The woman blinked. “How? Why?”

“To be honest,” Kanji said, “we’re not really sure.”

“Maybe the Kirijo Group would know,” Naoto said. “They’ve done research on Shadows.”

“You think maybe they’re behind this?” Chie asked. “Or, a part of them?”

“I don’t know,” Naoto said. She'd never gotten very far in her investigations following the Golden Week incidents. Life had... readjusted her priorities for her. “Either way, we’ll have to tell Mitsuru-san. If there’s anyone we can trust with this, who can safely grant us assistance, it’s her.”

“But, how do we get a hold of her?” Yosuke pushed Chie out of the camera enough that he fit onto the screen too, if cramped.

Naoto chuckled. “I can get into contact with her. Don’t worry about that.” That was one benefit her work with Public Safety had granted her, if unintentionally.

“An-anyway,” the still-unnamed woman stammered. “After that, my senses started to slowly clear up, but I was still functioning on some combination of panic and instinct. All I knew was, I had to get away. From what or who, I’m still not sure, but I ran anyway. I ran pretty much constantly, from that city, through the surrounding countryside, and into the next, before I really stopped to take stock of the situation.” She looked at Naoto. “What language am I speaking?”

“What language?” Naoto sounded surprised by the question. “Japanese, of course.”

The woman stared.

“I don’t… hear it as Japanese.” Her face paled. “Look at me. Tall, tan skin, reddish-brown hair, green eyes. My facial structure. I am _not_ Japanese. I don’t know much about myself, but I _know_ that my native tongue is English.”

“But,” Yosuke gaped, “you’re speaking… totally…”

“Yosuke-senpai is right.” Naoto nodded. She hesitated. “You’re… fluent.”

“Ya think whoever did whatever else they did ta her,” Kanji asked, “did this, too? Made her speak a new language and shit?”

“If so,” the woman said, “they did a really poor job of it. I still can’t read anything but English. Made getting around even harder.”

“I can imagine,” Yosuke said. “What happened from there?”

“Well, I felt some sort of instinct—a pull, more like—drawing me in the direction of this town.” The woman crossed her arms. “It lessened once I got here, but… it’s still there, like a weak buzzing in the back of my head.” She glanced back and forth between the others, who were each giving her a look of varying levels of concern. “What? I can ignore it now; I don’t think it’s gonna be a problem as long as I stay in this town.”

“Something isn’t right,” Naoto said.

“Weak Shadows are drawn to stronger ones,” Yosuke reminded them. “If someone did some sort of Shadow experiment on her, that might be why she’s drawn to Inaba.”

“Ya think the Midnight Channel has somethin’ ta do with it?” Kanji asked.

“Teddie!” Naoto’s face lit up.

“What’s a ‘Teddie?’” The woman looked at her.

“Technically,” Naoto explained, “a Shadow. Unlike the others we’ve encountered, though, Teddie is friendly.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Chie said with a laugh.

“Either way,” Naoto continued, “he is technically still a Shadow. If dangerous Shadows draw weaker ones to them, who’s to say that amicable Shadows don’t have comparable effects?”

“Are you saying that I’m a Shadow?”

“No!” Yosuke said quickly. “But, whatever happened to you could be making you act like one.”

“This is all conjecture until she’s able to remember what happened to her, anyway,” Naoto said.

“How’d you avoid the cops for this long?” Chie asked. “What’d you eat? Where’d you sleep?”

“Uh…” The woman hesitated. “I don’t really know. I just stuck to back alleys and generally snuck around away of major roads and such as much as I could. I don’t know how I knew how to do that, or how I managed to last as long as I did, but I managed somehow.” She had another coughing fit, this one much less violent. “I don’t think you want to know how I managed to scrape up enough food to survive.” She scratched at the back of her neck, looking at the floor. “As for sleeping, I ran into stray dogs, both here and in Okina, and they let me sleep in their alleyways.”

“Explains why you smelled like a wet mutt earlier,” Kanji said.

The woman twitched for a moment, before giving a nervous chuckle. “Sorry about that. Then, I ran into these guys, and the other kid, and you know what happened from there.”

“Yeah, about that,” Chie spoke. “Where is Naoki-kun?”

“He went home about fifteen minutes before we called you.” Naoto looked at the rice cooker on the nearby kitchen counter. “After she gave us an abbreviated version of the story, I deduced that Shadows were almost assuredly involved; I figured that he didn’t need to get implicated in this… mess. His family already lost one child to a Shadow incident; I can’t allow them to risk losing another.”

“Wow, Naoto,” Chie blinked at her, “that’s actually really….”

“What?” Naoto asked, sounding almost insulted.

“Kid argued with us for a while, though,” Kanji broke in. “He really didn’ like the idea of leaving Naoto and this chick alone. I had to promise to not leave until she was locked up and safe.”

“Which, of course,” Naoto said, “was already the intention. Besides, I’m more than capable of handling myself.”

“We don’t doubt you, Naoto,” Chie said. “He’s just worried. We all are; that’s what friends do.”

“I…”

“You should send him a text when you’re all settled for the night. Let him know that everything’s okay.”

“I’m not gonna kill her in her sleep,” the woman said, “chained or not.”

“Anyway,” Naoto said, “Naoki-kun promised to not say anything about this to anyone. For now, we’ll let him think that this is just between the three of us.”

There was a long silence.

“So, you really don’t remember anything about yourself?” Yosuke asked.

The woman flinched.

“Yosuke!” Chie snapped. “Can you _pretend_ to be sensitive for just five minutes?”

“No,” the unnamed woman cut the argument off before it could escalate. “I don’t even know my own name; though, to be honest, I have this vague sense that I might have never had a real name in the first place.”

“Well, we can’t have that!” Chie said. “We have to call you _something_. It’d be pretty rude to just say ‘hey you’ or ‘the woman’ or whatever all the time.”

“If you want.”

“But,” Kanji spoke up, “Whadaya think we should call her? I dun know a lot of English names.”

“Naoto, you read a lot of books from other countries,” Yosuke pointed out. “Any ideas?”

“I’m sure I could come up with some if I looked through my library,” Naoto said. “However, most of the names that come to mind are masculine; nearly all protagonists in mystery fiction are men.” She paused. “Besides, it would bring attention to us if anyone overheard us discussing someone with a foreign name. We might be better off giving her a Japanese name, at least for now.” She looked at her. “Unless that offends you.”

“Not at all,” she said. “I actually thought it might be offensive to _you_ guys.”

“Well, then, if no one has any objections,” Yosuke said, “does anyone have any ideas?”

Kanji and Naoto looked at each other, before they both shrugged.

“Oh!” Chie lit up. “I know! Akira!”

“Akira?” Yosuke echoed. “The hero in the movie we were just watching?” He groaned. “Chie, you really are hopeless.”

“Shut up!” She snapped at him. “I think it’s an _awesome_ name!”

“It’s ambiguous, at least,” Naoto pointed out, “so anyone who overhears won’t be able to tell if we’re talking about a man or a woman.”

“Anything that helps keep me hidden while I figure out what’s going on,” the woman said, “is perfectly fine by me.”

“What about a family name?” Kanji asked. “Think we should come up with one a’ those, too?”

“One step at a time,” the woman—Akira—said. “I’m going to need to adjust to the first one, anyway.”

Naoto nodded.

“That’s one matter settled, at least.”

“Yeah,” Yosuke looked down. “I should probably let Yu and Rise-san know what’s going on, now. Let ‘em know that we’ve got everything under control, but…. It’ll help to have them informed, anyway.”

“I agree,” Naoto said.

“Yeah.” Kanji nodded. “They might go nuts, worryin’ over us, but at least they won’t be completely lost if somethin’ _does_ happen.”

“Right.”

There was a long silence.

“Well, I think that’s enough for us to report to the rest of the Team for one night.” Yosuke scratched at the back of his neck.

“Be careful, guys,” Chie said.

“No worries.” Kanji grinned.

“Good night, senpai,” Naoto said with a slight smile.

“’Night!” Yosuke and Chie said in unison before the video went black.

There was a long pause, before Naoto stood up.

“Did you get all of that?” She asked.

The black image changed, now showing a grey-haired man in a striped suit, seated in a generic-looking office.

“Yes,” the man said. “I’ll be sure to forward everything to Mitsuru-san immediately.”

“Thank you, Kurosawa-san.” Naoto frowned. “If you could also hold off on reporting any information I’ve sent to you, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“Of course,” he said with a sharp nod. “If the subject—er, Akira-san—is truly innocent in all of this, we can’t risk those responsible having access to police records.” He paused. “I’ll have Mitsuru-san contact you directly as soon as possible.”

Naoto nodded.

“Once again, thank you.”

“I will echo your friends’ concern; be careful, Shirogane-san.”

“Acknowledged,” Naoto said in a flat voice.

The screen went black again.

Naoto’s body language loosened immediately. She looked down at the floor, her scowl deepening.

“Do not tell the others.” She looked up at Kanji without raising her head.

“Nah, I ain’t no snitch,” he tried to laugh it off. “But, outta curiosity, why _didn’t_ you tell them that the Detective was listenin’?”

“The conversation had to be as natural as possible,” Naoto said. “It’s the best way for Mitsuru-san to judge the next course of action. Besides,” she took off her hat, “Yosuke-senpai’s been rather... anxious lately. The added stress of knowing that a detective was listening to everything we say…. I didn’t wish to cause him further stress.”

“I’d say that you guys care about each other in the weirdest ways,” Akira said, slouching over in her chair as much as the cuffs would allow, “but, I don’t really have much reference.”

“That rice should be done.” Naoto didn’t respond to the comment. “If you’d like to eat now….”

“I’d appreciate it,” Akira said in a lighter tone. “It’ll be nice to keep something down again, too.”

“If you’d like, Kanji-kun,” Naoto said while she scooped rice from the cooker into a rectangular black bowl, “you can leave now.”

“Huh?” Kanji blinked at her. “Nuh-uh, no way. I promised Naoki that I’d stay until she’s settled for the night. I’m gonna keep that promise.”

Not that he’d admit it, out loud, of course, but Kanji was also worried about leaving Naoto alone with a stranger all night. Even if Akira was chained down—if she was really some sort of Shadow monster, then chains would probably be useless. He was tempted to insist on spending the night on her couch, but two things kept those words safely in his throat. One, his ma was already worried about him for not coming home the night before—he’d told her that he’d spent the night at Yosuke’s, and got the third-year to agree to cover said story. Two, the very _idea_ of saying such a thing made his lungs collapse.

So, he’d just keep his promise, and stay until everyone was settled for the night.

Naoto looked at him for a long moment, and Kanji tried to will the heat spreading across his face to go away. She opened her mouth to say something, before simply sighing and shaking her head.

“Very well,” she muttered. “I am more than accustomed enough to your tenacity by now to know that you will not relent on the matter.” She grabbed a spoon from a drawer, sticking it into the bowl of rice. “In that case, if you’d like, you may use my shower.”

“Huh?” Kanji nearly fell over. _What did she say?_

“Everyone else is today,” she said with a shrug, handing the bowl to Akira. “Besides, it’s my fault you didn’t get one last night. It’ll be a while before either of us will retire for the night, so it’s logically the most efficient use of your time.”

Kanji opened his mouth to protest, but his voice caught in his throat. After a moment, he closed his mouth again, realizing that she was just as stubborn as he was. More, actually.

“Fine.”

“There are towels in the linen cabinet.” She didn’t look at him, opening the fridge and focusing her gaze in there instead. “I don’t have any spare clothes—none that would fit—so you’ll have to change back into your current attire.” She paused. “Well, I _did_ have some, but they’re currently in use.”

“I am right here,” Akira said, her face reddening. “I _can_ hear you.”

Kanji was glad that Naoto was distracted, that she couldn’t see how red his face was turning, as he walked down the short hall to her bedroom door. He hesitated for a moment.

 _The shower is in the bathroom through here. Of_ course _she expects you to walk through it. Stop bein’ a wimp. It’s just a bedroom._

He opened the door, stiffly walking in.

Kanji had expected Naoto’s room to be plain, yet he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The walls were completely bare of any posters or similar decoration. In the far corner, she had a small, western-style bed, the small pillows and blanket both the same shade of dark blue. On the nightstand sat a small alarm clock, lamp, a worn, paperback book, and—of no help to Kanji’s red face—a handmade plush of her original Persona, Sukuna-Hikona. Aside from a small dresser and a light wood cabinet, there were a pair of bookshelves, mostly filled with books and various small items: a couple of souvenirs from trips the Team had gone on, and—surprisingly—a Featherman figure: Black Condor.

 _Not Blue Swan?_ Kanji blinked at it.

There was also a small table in the corner on the opposite end from the bed, empty except for a framed photo of a man, woman, and small child and a small, white candle in a dish.

Feeling even more like an invader, Kanji turned sharply towards the dressing area that served as an internal hall between the room and the bathroom. A hamper sat in the corner of it. Kanji looked pointedly away, stiffly walking into the bathroom.

If Naoto’s bedroom had been a little plain, her bathroom was outright sterile. There was absolutely no decoration—not that he’d expected any, to be honest. The sink was almost completely empty, with only a cheap, unscented bottle of hand soap on top.  The shower was a small stall unit, completely bare, without curtains of any sort. Inside the stall was nearly as bare as the sink, with only a bottle each of shampoo and wash, both the same: clear and unscented.

Kanji couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. He’d figured that she’d at least have some sort of scent in her shampoo; according to Chie, even Yosuke used the scented stuff.

 _…Actually, why_ does _she know that?_ Kanji shook his head. That question went some place he did _not_ want to go. He opened the small, wooden cabinet on the wall opposite the shower, pulling out a pale-grey towel. He turned back towards the shower, scowling.

_Just… don’t think about it._

 

…

…

 

Naoto sank back into the drawing room couch. She never thought she’d be thankful to Kashiwagi for anything, but here she was—and quite mirthful that the teacher had only assigned reading for the next day’s lecture.

_Maybe I’ll actually get a decent night’s rest tonight._

A loud yelp sounded from the dining room.

 _Or, perhaps not_.

“Are you all right?” She didn’t even sit up.

“Fine!” Akira’s tone confirmed her words.

 _Good,_ Naoto thought to herself. _I don’t think my muscles have the strength left to bring myself back to my feet right now, anyway._

It had been an exhausting week so far, and it was only Wednesday night. She rubbed at her own shoulders, wishing that she was better at massaging them herself. She could give others more than adequate massages—and, after she’d gotten more comfortable with them, often would give the other members of the Team ones after training sessions in the Midnight Channel—but rubbing one’s own back was a difficult feat.

Perhaps she should ask someone to assist her. She mulled the idea over for a long moment. She wasn’t home alone at the moment, after all. But…. But, Akira was still a stranger, more or less, and one she didn’t trust by any margin. There was no way that she’d allow the woman to touch her—especially in such a vulnerable place.

 _You could ask Kanji-kun_ , the voice from before buzzed in her head.

 _Kanji-kun?_ Naoto jolted upright. She’d almost forgotten that he was still at the apartment, and—judging from the sound of water—was likely still taking the shower she’d insisted upon. Ask _Kanji_ to…? Heat spread from the bridge of her nose. She lumbered to her feet, trudging slowly back into the kitchen.

“You ‘kay?” Akira said as she passed through the dining room. The woman had the spoon in her mouth, her words slightly muffled around the utensil.

“Huh?” Naoto stopped for a moment, but didn’t turn to look at her. She opened the fridge, pulling a canned drink out. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She sat down at the table, opposite Akira. She stared at the table for a moment, before shaking her head.

“I think I remember something.”

“Huh?” Naoto repeated. “What?”

“It’s the rice,” Akira stared at her half-eaten meal. “I remember… a rice cooker. And all of us—there was a group—huddled around it. We’re eating from cheap bowls. Mine’s chipped, and my spoon’s actually a measuring spoon. Tablespoon. We’re all in winter clothes: coats, hats, gloves, the whole deal. Some of us are talking, but I can’t make out the words, or even whose voice is whose. Their faces are…blurry. I think… we’re in a basement of some sort.” She paused, taking another bite before continuing. “I think I was… homeless.”

“Homeless?”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make much sense, either,” Akira admitted. “I’m far too healthy to just be outright homeless, right? I mean, it’s one thing that I’m not underweight. It’s another that I’m so… fit and muscular.” She paused. “Though, the scars on my upper arms add even more questions.” She scowled. “I’m sorry, this must be maddening for you.”

“Hmm?” Naoto blinked at her. “Me? Shouldn’t _you_ be the one who’s… embittered by your amnesia?”

Akira looked at her bowl.

“I guess. I mean, I _am_ , but…. But, it could be worse, right?” She took another bite. “I do remember some things. Granted, they are just things, simple facts that ultimately don’t tell me much about myself, except what I’ve learned over my life, but it’s better than nothing.” She paused. “Is it normal for amnesia to only target personal memories and stuff like this?”

“I’m not wholly certain,” Naoto said. “I know that there are several types of amnesia, and that there is at least one type that deals with the… afflicted being able to remember information, but have no memory of how they obtained said information.” She hesitated. “Also, remember that one of our theories deals with someone doing this to you, using something we don’t fully understand.”

“Shadows.” Akira looked at her.

“Precisely.”

“S’up?” A deep voice announced the return of a third person.

“Kanji-kun.” Naoto willed her voice to stay level.

The teenage boy was wearing the same clothes—of course, Naoto herself had pointed out that he’d have no other option—but his hair was still damp and mildly disheveled from his shower.

“Akira-san remembered something,” Naoto told him.

“Really?” Kanji’s face lit up. “Awesome! Whadaya got?”

“Not much.” Akira looked at him. “Mostly just that, whoever I was before, I wasn’t alone.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Kanji said.

“I also may have been homeless.”

“Oh.” Kanji’s face fell. “Uh… sorry.”

“Why?” She blinked. “It’s not your fault. If anything, I’m glad to just have that piece of my past again. It’s a start, you know?”

“Uh, r-right.”

Akira looked at Naoto.

“I’m sure that you would like to go to bed soon,” she said in a low voice. “And, er… Kanji…san?”

“San?” Kanji echoed. “Nah, just call me Kanji. I’m not big on formality or any a’ that.”

“Er, right. Kanji, then.” She coughed. “I’m sure that Kanji would like to get home before it gets _too_ late; not to mention; I’m sure his mother would appreciate it, too.”

“Right,” Kanji said. “Ma. She’s gonna be pissed; I think she’s still mad that I didn’t come home last night.”

“You didn’t?” Akira raised a brow. “Where were ya?”

“Uh…” Kanji’s face reddened, and he hastily fidgeted with his glasses. “D-don’t you have a date with a safe tonight?”

“Ah, yes,” she said dryly. “It’s supposed to be extremely romantic. Though,” she chuckled, raising her hand slightly, rattling the handcuffs, “I think these might give the safe the wrong idea.”

The teenagers’ faces promptly both turned a deep red.

“I’m kidding!” Akira barked. “Really! It was a joke! I’m not…!” She stood up—or, rather, tried to; the handcuffs jerked her back from the sudden movement, and she stumbled to the floor. “Can I have some help?” It was the young woman’s turn to hide her own red face.

Naoto stood up, pulling a keychain out of her pocket. She unlocked the cuff attached to the chair, taking it in one hand.

“If you’re ready,” Naoto said.

“Why do I feel like a dog being lead to euthanasia?”

“Led to what?” Kanji blinked.

“Being put down,” Naoto explained.

“What?” Kanji’s voice tensed. “We ain’t gonna kill ya!”

“I know!” Akira said. “I was making another joke.” She paused. “I guess I’m not very good at it. I wonder if I was bad at jokes before, too.” She coughed, as Naoto led her to the office, Kanji close behind. “You know, I actually do like dogs. I remember that, too.”

“Yeah,” Kanji said behind them. “You _did_ smell like a wet mutt when we found ya.”

Akira twitched visibly again as they entered the office.

“You okay?” Naoto stopped, turning to look at her.

“Fine, just… I think… that word has some sort of significance to me. Or, the old me.”

“Smell?” Kanji raised a brow.

“No. Mutt.” She paused. “I can’t think of why, though.”

“Maybe getting some rest will help,” Kanji said.

“Well,” Naoto’s tone lowered as she led Akira to the futon next to the safe, in the corner opposite her desk. “It’s not going to be the most comfortable night for you.” She hesitated. “I apologize.”

“Don’t,” Akira said. “I understand; I’d be nervous about letting a stranger sleep in my home, too.” She smiled as they knelt to allow Naoto to close the open cuff on a ring on an upper corner of the safe. “To be honest, I’m just grateful that you’re taking this much of a risk to help me, instead of just turning me into the cops.”

“It was the most logical decision from the information we currently possess.”

Akira blinked at her.

“Is the blanket sufficient?”

“It’s fine. This is certainly better than my sleeping arrangements the past two nights, so….”

“The trash can there should be within reach if you think you’ll be ill again.”

“I… I think I’m done with that, really.” There was a long pause. “You guys can go. I’m not going to turn into a rabid beast the moment you turn your backs. Go on, go home, go to bed. We can go over my special brand of crazy again sometime tomorrow.”

“Very well. Good night.” Naoto nodded, before flipping the light and leaving, closing the door behind her.

“She’s takin’ it well.” Kanji scratched at the back of his neck.

“Hmm.” Naoto nodded again.

“Well, uh,” Kanji avoided looking at her, “I’m gonna go, then. I should probably get goin’ while the rain’s stopped. Hope Ma doesn’t decide to ground me for this.”

“Your mother’s an understanding woman,” Naoto said, “and you’ve been through worse. You’ll be fine. Both of you.”

“Uh. Yeah. I guess.” He coughed once. “Well, uh… I’ll see myself out. G-g’night.”

“Good night, Kanji-kun.”

He turned around and walked out towards the front door.

“Don’t forget to text Naoki!” He called out, just before she heard the front door close.

Naoto walked out to the dining room, returning to her canned drink on the table. She pulled out her cell.

_GOING 2 BED. EVERYTHING GOOD 4 NIGHT. SEE U TOMORROW._

She picked up her drink. Before she could even reach her room, her phone vibrated.

_Good. Let me know if I can help w/ anything. Good night!_

Naoto hesitated, thumb over the phone’s keyboard, before she slid it shut with a sigh. She opened her bedroom door, and slowly slunk inside.


	5. Floodgate

Naoki looked at his phone again. He frowned, before looking up.

The second year was seated alone on the stage.

“Where are you?” He asked under his breath. _We did agree on the stage, right? The third years usually get the roof, so…_

He sighed. It would be rude to start eating without them, but he couldn’t wait forever, either.

_I don’t want to be clingy, but…._

He flickered his phone’s cursor between the top two names in his inbox.

Before he could select either one, though, the door into the assembly room opened. Kanji, black hair ruffled and a deep scowl on his face, stormed in. He was muttering incoherently to himself. Naoto was following close behind, her right hand firmly gripping the brim of her hat and keeping it pulled down over her eyes. While Naoto had her typical, disposable convenience-store bento, Kanji was—unlike yesterday—carrying _his_ usual bento box: red, elliptical lacquer, with two levels, one detailed with intricate markings in black, the other in white.

“Sorry, dude,” Kanji said as he approached the stage—and Naoki. “We had to talk to our senpai about….” He stopped, glancing at Naoto. “Er… about something.”

Naoki raised a brow. They were keeping something from him, he knew. The two of them—along with Rise—had been close to Yu and his friends in his class. He suspected it had something to do with the murder case that Naoto had come to Inaba to solve—his sister’s murder—but he didn’t pry. To be honest, he didn’t really want it explained.

“And, er,” Kanji continued, regardless, “we ran into Takazawa on the way here. Again.”

“Takazawa-senpai’s a jerk,” Naoki said. “Ignore him; he’ll get bored eventually. He always does.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Naoto said, taking a seat on the stage stairs near Naoki. “He’s quite tenacious; it seems he has fabricated some sort of past affront and seeks retribution.”

“What?” Kanji asked, jumping onto the stage to take his seat on Naoki’s other side. He opened the top lid of his bento.

“She means that he thinks that you’ve insulted him in the past, and is stubbornly seeking revenge for it.” Naoki didn’t look at either of them, focusing on his own lunch.

 “Oh.”

Their meal continued in relative peace, until Naoki spoke up again.

“So, uh. How’s…?”

“She’s fine.” Naoto kept her gaze on her food. “Left her… with the chair again, so she can….” Naoto coughed.

_Yeah, leaving a person chained to a safe all day is outright cruel. Someone like Naoto-kun would never do that, no matter how unsure she was about trusting them._

“Did you get a name, yet?”

“Chie suggested we call ‘er Akira for now,” Kanji said between bites.

“Everyone concurred,” Naoto added.

_Well,_ Naoki picked at his rice, _if anyone is eavesdropping, they’ll either be too confused to follow, or think Naoto-kun’s adopted a dog or something._

_Though,_ his expression brightened as he allowed himself a light laugh, _the woman—Akira-san—certainly_ smelled _like a wet dog when we found her._

“So, is she going to be okay with Saturday?” Naoki asked. “Or, should we give her space while she… adjusts?”

“Saturday?” Naoto looked at him. “Why would—oh!”

It had started by coincidence; early during summer vacation, they’d spent a Saturday evening at Kanji’s for a movie night. And, then Naoto had suggested they spend the next at her apartment for another. And, then it just became a weekly thing: movie night on Saturday, rotating between their homes for each week’s location. Naoki briefly remembered the first one at his house; Naoki’s parents had known Kanji for years—his own family had always lived just down the shopping district—and had been quite happy and proud that he and Naoki had restored their old friendship—they were convinced that Kanji’s “improvement of character” had been due to Naoki’s influence, and neither boy ever revealed the truth otherwise. But, they had been more than a little surprised to see that the _Naoto-kun_ they’d heard so much about was actually a girl.

Something his parents seemed far too eager to bring up with him, Naoki recalled with a slight frown.

“Yeah,” Kanji’s voice brought him back to the present. “I guess that might be too much for ‘er.” He paused, finishing the first level of his food and opening the second. “We could have movie night at my place this week,” he offered. “Ma’s gonna be out in Okina until late, so she should be cool with it.”

“Unless you’d rather we cancel for the week.” Naoki looked at Naoto. “That’d be totally fine, too.”

Naoto hesitated.

“No, that’d be good.” She finished her lunch. “I think it might be good to give Akira-san some space, too; I’ll check that she’ll be okay with it, but I don’t have a problem with the relocation if Tatsumi-san doesn’t.” She pulled down on her cap again. “I… rather enjoy our recreation time together.”

Naoki pointedly looked away, while Kanji completely engrossed himself with the second half of his meal.

“The sequel to our last movie arrived in the mail the other day,” Naoto continued anyway. “I could bring it along, if the two of you have no objections.”

“Y-yeah!” Kanji stammered with a nod.

“That’d be awesome!” Naoki agreed enthusiastically.

The previous Saturday, they’d ended with the first in a foreign series of spy movies. While they could all understand at least some English—Naoto being the most fluent among them, Kanji mostly just understanding basic phrases and words, and Naoki somewhere between—they still preferred to watch those movies with subtitles. Kanji would grumble during the first fifteen minutes or so, but by the time the action sequences got going, he’d be too engrossed to care about the extra effort.

Naoki also had an animated film—one that had sat at the top of the box office in Japan for weeks—that he had planned on bringing along. While the tall teenager would be hesitant to admit it, Naoki knew that Kanji had been looking forward to seeing it. They usually got through two or three movies each Saturday, so it was still worth bringing along.

Naoto flipped her phone open.

“We should probably head back to class soon,” she said, standing up. “Sofue-san’s particularly strict about punctuality as of late.” She returned her phone to her pocket, before heading towards the trash can by the entry doors. “Shall we?”

Naoki and Kanji exchanged a long glance, before both boys scrambled to gather their belongings and follow their friend back to class.

 

…

…

 

Naoto wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. Granted, there were only so many ways one could interpret the sight of a grown woman lying on the drawing room floor, handcuffed to a dining chair, which was lying at an awkward angle on top of her.

“Am I going to regret asking what happened?” She asked, locking the apartment’s front door behind her.

“Uh…” Akira hesitated. “To be honest… I’m not sure, myself.” She staggered to her feet, righting the chair as she did. “I guess I’m just a klutz.” She scratched at the back of her neck with her free hand. “What’s up? Er, how was school?”

“Pleasant enough,” Naoto said, walking through the room and into the kitchen. “Have you remembered anything?”

“Not really,” Akira carried the chair with one arm as she followed the young detective. “A few fuzzy faces, some muffled voices, but not much else. I get quite the headache if I try for too long.” She paused, watching as Naoto set up the coffeemaker. “I think I might have been in fights on a frequent basis, though, and—do you _mainline_ caffeine?”

“I’m going to need the extra boost this afternoon.” Naoto didn’t look at her. “How do you feel about some company today?”

“You don’t ask your hostage for their opinions.” Akira chuckled.

“We’re not holding you—!” Naoto turned sharply to snap at her, her outburst faltering under the amused look the woman was giving her. “…Maybe on a technicality….” She coughed once into her fist, pulling down on her hat. “A-anyway! The others are all coming over for a meeting. There are several topics we need to discuss together.”

“Essentially,” Akira translated, “what you’re going to do with me? Long term?”

Naoto opened her mouth to say something, but after a long moment of being unable to, she closed it again and simply nodded.

“I’m really _not_ offended,” Akira said. “I understand your logic entirely. You have no way to know if I’m deceiving you in some way; for the record, though, I’m not.” She added quickly with a nervous laugh. “But, seriously. I’d rather you just be blunt with me, than try to avoid the point out of concern for my feelings. I’m already in the dark here; I’ll take the truth wherever I can get it.”

“Very well.” Naoto poured herself a mug of coffee. “Would you like some coffee?” She lifted the pot up in offering.

“No, thank you.” Akira shook her head. She watched while Naoto mixed cream and sugar in her drink—unlike this morning. “I never drink coffee; it has a tendency to make me excessively jittery.”

“What?” Naoto started sharply.

“Coffee makes me jittery,” Akira repeated. “What of it?”

“That is a facet of your personality you did not have knowledge of before this moment, yes?”

Akira blinked at her in silence for a long moment.

“Oh, my gosh! You’re right!” She enthusiastically placed her fist in her palm, jolting slightly when the handcuff limited her movement. “I didn’t even notice; it was a wholly instinctual reaction.”

Naoto looked at her mug for a long moment.

“Scent is the sense with the strongest link to the recollection of memory,” the young detective said, before taking a sip. “Maybe the smell of the coffee served as a trigger.”

“Maybe. My head’s still buzzing, though….” Akira hesitated again.

_If a memory that minor is resulting in enough strain to cause headaches,_ Naoto thought to herself, _we should be highly cautious about not trying to force further recollections. The last thing we need is to cause a mental break. Or worse._

“You said something about company?” Akira found her voice. “Is Kanji coming over again? Or that other kid?”

“Kanji-kun?” Naoto blinked at her. “I-I suppose; the whole Team intended to visit, so I’d presume he’ll—”

“Team,” she interrupted. “You mean the other kids from last night? On the video call?”

“Yosuke-senpai and Chie-senpai,” Naoto supplied. “And, yes, they’re actually two-thirds of the founding members. Along with them and Kanji-kun, there’s also Yukiko-senpai and Teddie; those five should be arriving shortly. There are two other members who are not currently in Inaba: our leader, Yu-senpai, and our main support, Rise-san.”

“I’m going to have trouble keeping all those names straight,” Akira said, scratching at her free arm.

“I highly doubt anyone will take offense.” Naoto sat down at the dining table, slowly drinking her coffee. “You’ve been tossed rather unceremoniously into all of this.” She paused. “Actually, just a fair warning: Yosuke-senpai has a tendency to, er…” Naoto searched for a delicate way to phrase it. “Well… he typically manages to misspeak on increasing levels whenever he speaks.”

“Foot-in-mouth disease?”

Naoto nodded again. “Apparently, it’s terminal. I know he manages to insult Kanji-kun somehow at least twice a day. I’m not really sure I understand what nerve he’s striking, though; it seems to be tied to some event prior to my arrival.”

“So, if nothing else, this promises to be an entertaining visit, then?”

Naoto looked at her for a long moment, before smiling.

“Yes, I suppose it does.”

“Wait a second,” Akira’s face lit up, “you said—!”

Her words were caught off by the sound of knocking on the apartment door. Three knocks, to be precise, solid but restrained.

_That would be Yosuke-senpai_ , Naoto thought. _They’re here sooner than I expected._ She stood up.

“I’ll let them in, if you’re ready.”

Akira shrugged.

Naoto took that as confirmation, finishing her coffee before standing and walking to the front door.

“—unfair to just say things like—!” Yosuke was yelling as she opened the door. The third year student was standing just outside, at the front of the group. His attention was on yet another apparent argument with Chie, who stood slightly behind his left. The other three present members of the Team were keeping a mild distance, standing behind them.

“Well, maybe if you kept your mouth shut—!” Chie snapped back. Her hands were thrust in the pockets of her unzipped, green jacket, and she was glaring straight at Yosuke.

_I am going to need another cup of coffee._

“Good afternoon,” Naoto said in a level tone, hoping to bring a premature end to their current conflict. It seemed to work, as they both stopped, their expressions softening as they turned to look at her.

“Hey, Naoto-kun!” Chie’s voice brightened. “We’re not too early, are we?”

“Not at all,” Naoto said. “Please, come in.” She stood aside, holding the door as the others walked in.

“Should we settle in the drawing room?” Yukiko asked. After Naoto nodded, the black-haired young woman handed her underclassman a small package. “This is for you and Akira-san; I’ve been practicing.”

_Food_. Naoto willed herself to not blanch. _Food prepared by Yukiko-senpai._ She recalled the first attempts at a cake the previous Christmas, and her stomach turned.

“I promise!” Yukiko must have caught some of her hesitation. “The cooks at the inn helped, and everything!”

“She’s not lying!” Chie said, taking a seat on the couch next to Yosuke. “I tried some of it!”

“Yeah,” Kanji said, taking a seat on the floor, at the far end of the coffee table. “It’s not even tasteless this time.”

Naoto took the packaged food, trying to forget how awkwardly she was acting as she took it into the kitchen. Akira was still in there, leaning back against the stove.

“Everyone here?” The woman asked.

“Yeah.” Naoto placed the food in the fridge. “Would you like to join us?”

Naoto swore she saw Akira’s cheeks turn the slightest bit pink. The woman glanced at the floor.

“Sure.” She picked up her chair. “A-after you.”

Naoto walked back into the drawing room, Akira shuffling along behind her.

_Why is she so restless all of a sudden?_

“So,” Naoto started, “since not everyone’s fully acquainted, yet: Yukiko-senpai and Teddie, this is Akira. Yosuke-senpai and Chie-senpai should have told you about her.”

“Ch-charmed,” Akira gave a curt nod to Yukiko and the thankfully-currently-human Teddie. She placed her chair at a distance from the others around the coffee table, choosing to sit near the wall, next to the television. She became rather captivated with the linoleum floor, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“Wow, Nao-chan!” Teddie stood up from his spot, diagonal from Kanji. He approached Akira. “You didn’t tell me that you were keeping such a _pretty_ girl in your apartment!”

“Wh-what?” Akira stood up sharply, attempting to back away from him, but only managing to knock the chair over. The weight pulled on her arm, causing her stumble further. If her face hadn’t been red before, it certainly was now.

“Behave yourself, bear,” Kanji leaned over and grabbed Teddie by the edge of his shirt, pulling him back to his spot without even standing up.

“Bear?” Akira blinked at him. “Th-then, I presume you’re Teddie. Ni-nice to meet you.” She looked away again.

“It’s beary nice to meet you, too!”

Akira looked back up, eyebrow raised.

“Did you say ‘beary?’”

Yukiko—seated on the couch, on the opposite side of Chie from Yosuke—started giggling.

“There was nothing _remotely_ funny about that, Yukiko.” Yosuke sighed.

Yukiko responded by laughing even harder.

“I don’t get it.” Akira looked utterly lost.

“There’s nothing to get,” Chie said. “Yukiko just… gets like this sometimes.”

Akira shrugged again, but said nothing.

Naoto walked over to the armchair by the end of the coffee table—opposite of Kanji’s end—and sat down. She would never say it out loud, but she utterly despised the armchair; at least, she hated sitting in it. It seemed oddly large for a single person, even one of average size, and with her… slightly diminutive stature, even for an adolescent girl, it only seemed to exaggerate the situation.

She looked at Akira. The woman really couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than them—likely close to Mitsuru-san’s age. Yet, she was roughly Yosuke’s height, and somewhere between the third year and Kanji in build; her shoulders and arms in particular were visibly wider and more muscular than the average woman. Her frame had been suggested under her old clothes, but under the borrowed track suit—especially without the jacket—it was now undeniable. Her red-brown hair, which normally fell to just above her shoulders, was tied back in a loose ponytail. As such, it could no longer obscure her solid jaw line, currently set in a confused frown.

Naoto looked away and stared at the coffee table.

_We’re seriously theorizing that someone managed to subdue and kidnap a woman built like that?_ Her frown deepened. She glanced up at Kanji—only briefly—before looking back at the tabletop. _Someone_ did _manage to kidnap Kanji-kun last year_ , she reminded herself.

“Yo!” His voice cut through her thoughts. “Naoto! You there?”

“Yes!” She looked up, glancing sharply about the others. “What is it?”

“Are you paying attention?” Yosuke asked. “We asked if you’d gotten a hold of Mitsuru-san, yet.”

“I got a message out to her,” Naoto hoped that her discomfort wasn’t visible, “but I haven’t received a reply, yet.” She took out her phone, checking her inbox for good measure.

_No new messages._

She shook her head.

“I’m still not sure I understand who this Mitsuru-san is,” Akira said. She was seated back in her righted chair.

_When did I miss that?_

“She’d probably be able to explain it better than any of us can,” Yosuke said, crossing his arms. “Well, except maybe Naoto. She worked with her group—sort of—back in May.”

“We all did, technically,” Naoto clarified, “by the time the situation was fully resolved. Though, I will have to echo Yosuke-senpai’s statement; it’s probably for the best if Mitsuru-san explains herself directly.” _I should refrain from mentioning the Kirijo Group by name, now that Akira-san’s starting to get fragments of her memory back. If she_ was _in compliance with whatever was done to her involving Shadows, and if there_ is _a connection to the Group, then that isn’t part of her memory we want to trigger. And, if she was a unequivocal victim from the start, then it might just cause her more confusion and pain._ “Basically,” she continued aloud, “she’s experienced with Shadows, far more than any of us. And, she has access to information and resources that can help us—can help you—to resolve this mystery.”

Akira looked at her for a moment, head tilted slightly, before nodding once.

“So,” Yosuke leaned back against the couch, “what should we do until then?”

“That’s not even a question, Yosuke!” Chie looked like she wanted to hit him. Not that anything generally kept her from doing so. “We’re gonna keep Akira-san safe and hidden until Mitsuru-san can help.”

“You guys don’t have to go out of your way for me if it’s going to be a hassle,” Akira said in a low voice, focusing her gaze on the floor. “Last night—and most of today—gave me time to think. You’re all just a bunch of kids; it’s not right of me to ask—or allow—you to stick your necks out for me like this.”

Naoto flinched sharply at her words, drawing quick glances from Kanji and Yosuke, but her voice sounded as calm and reserved as ever.

“We’re not doing this because we think we have to. It’s the right thing to do. Each of us has put themselves into physically and emotionally vulnerable positions to help the others.”

“Yeah,” Yukiko agreed. “We’ve saved each others’ lives more than once.”

“We’ve already promised to help you at least figure out what’s going on,” Yosuke said. “We aren’t backing out now.”

Akira looked at Kanji.

“You ain’t a hassle, dude,” Kanji said. “So, chill.”

Naoto stood up, walking over to Akira.

“Wha—?” The woman started, cutting herself off when the detective pulled a key out of the pocket of her school jacket and unlocked her handcuffs. “What are you doing?” Akira stared.

“I should think it’s obvious.”

Akira rubbed at her now-free wrist, tilting her head at Naoto.

“But…why?”

“Because you’re not a prisoner,” Naoto said, not looking at her. She then glanced around the room at the rest of the Investigation Team. “Besides, there are six of us here. Even if you were to attack or otherwise betray us, it’s not an illogical conclusion that we’d be more than capable of defending ourselves and subduing you.”

“I can’t decide if this means you trust me,” Akira said, “or if you’re just issuing a threat. Or, which option is ultimately more terrifying.”

Yukiko started laughing again.

“It’s _not funny_ , Yukiko!” Yosuke’s voice threatened to crack.

Yukiko doubled over, sliding to her knees on the floor and practically collapsing on Naoto’s coffee table. Her laughter was punctuated with loud hiccups from her struggle to breathe during the fit.

“She’s not going to just stop, Yosuke,” Chie said, shaking her head. “Just let her ride it out.”

Naoto returned to her armchair.

“Well,” Kanji stood up, “I guess now’s a good a time as any, then.” He picked up a large paper bag—Naoto wondered how she’d failed to notice him carrying with an object of that size when he’d arrived with the others—and walked it over to Akira, setting it down in front of her.

“What’s that?” Akira looked at the bag.

“Some a’ my old clothes from a couple years ago.” Kanji scratched at the back of his neck, staring at the floor. “Ya can’t wear that track suit all the time. These may not fit ya that great, but it’s better than nothin’ at all, right?” He coughed once. “’Sides, I’m the only one with old clothes that are, uh, tall enough to… yeah.”

Akira blinked at the bag for a moment.

“Thank you.”

Kanji gave another dry cough, glancing at Naoto briefly, before awkwardly dragging himself back to his spot at the end of the coffee table and sitting back down on the floor.

“I, uh, brought you something, too,” Yosuke said, grabbing something from his pack. He held it out towards Akira: a moderate-sized book, bound the opposite way from what she recalled, with a detailed color drawing of a warrior with a cape and a sword longer than he was tall. “It’s not my favorite manga, but it’s pretty fun, and it’s only a few volumes long, so I brought the whole thing. I figured it’d at least give you something to do during the day.”

Naoto frowned, unsure whether she should speak up. Akira looked at the cover for a long moment.

“Th-thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” Chie asked.

“I can’t read.” Akira’s voice was monotone. “Not Japanese.”

Yosuke blinked for a moment, before cringing.

“I… I didn’t… I for…. Sorry.” He finally managed to complete a thought, even if minimally.

“No, it’s fine.” She placed a hand on the cover. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Y-yeah,” Yosuke stammered. “Y-you’re welcome.” He glanced at Chie, giving her a sheepish shrug.

“Well, uh, you can understand _spoken_ Japanese, though,” Chie looked at Akira. “R-right?”

“Unless you’ve all been speaking English in an elaborate prank.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Yukiko said brightly. “Yosuke-kun would give it away immediately; his English is terrible.”

“Thanks, Yukiko.”

“Well!” Chie intercut before the two could start an argument of their own. “I brought you these!” She handed the woman a small stack of DVD cases. “Some of my favorite kung fu movies!”

“Just don’t crack the discs,” Yosuke added with a nervous chuckle.

“She’s not you, Yosuke!” Chie looked at him. “They’ll be totally fine with _her!_ ”

“Oh, _one time_ I—!” Yosuke started, glaring back.

“Thank you!” Akira said loudly, stopping the argument cold. “Thank you,” she repeated more calmly.

“Of course!” Chie’s tone brightened again.

“And I brought you these!” Teddie pulled out a pair of shades with large lenses. The black frame was simple and thin. “Yosuke said that you can’t go outside without sunglasses, so I—!”

“I never said that!” Yosuke barked. He looked at Chie. “Did I ever say that?”

“It’s not blatantly shoving your foot in your mouth,” Chie observed, “so probably not.”

“Hey!” Yosuke scoffed. “I’m not _that_ —!”

“Thank you, er… Teddie,” Akira cut them off again. She put the shades on. “They’re great!” She gave a light laugh. “I love them!”

Teddie’s expression went from joyful to outright euphoric.

“Well, uh,” Yosuke said. “I guess, without Mitsuru-san’s opinion, it’ll be hard to plan our next step.”

“If she doesn’t think that Akira should go with her,” Kanji spoke up, “then, she’s gonna need a place to stay. You know, long-term.”

“There’s no logical reasoning that to conclude that she can’t continue to stay here,” Naoto said. “It’s best that we keep our guardians from getting involved, at least until we’re completely certain that there’s no risk of the… wrong people discovering she’s here. My office may not be… homely, but there’s an ample amount of space, and the spare futon’s already set up.” She looked at Akira. “Presuming you’re not adverse to the concept.”

Akira shrugged one shoulder.

“I’m certainly not… adverse to it.”

“As long as we’re discreet,” Naoto continued, “no one beyond the Team will be informed of Akira’s residency in my apartment.”

“Except for Naoki,” Kanji corrected.

“Wh-what?” Naoto blinked at him. “Oh. Right. The Team and Naoki-kun.”

“Naoki-kun?” Teddie echoed. “That’s the guy you and Kanji hang out with, right?”

“Yes. Naoki-kun was unfortunately present when we… discovered Akira. She’d had a run-in with a trio of men on motorcycles.”

“Oh, those bikers who’ve been driving around the area lately?” Yukiko asked. “My mother complained about them the other night. Apparently, they’ve been keeping some of the guests awake at night.”

“Looks like your time to shine again, eh, Kanji?” Yosuke shot the second year a smirk.

“Shut up, senpai.”

“That would likely be ultimately unnecessary,” Naoto said. “Only the leader seemed to be unable to identify Kanji-kun from past experience. His two followers fled the scene almost immediately upon doing so themselves.”

“Regardless,” Akira said, “I refuse to be a freeloader any longer than I absolutely must. I’m sure there’s some way I can get a job, or do some work here, or help you and the others in _some_ manner. I don’t really care what—I’m willing to do just about anything, so long as it’s legal.” She shot a look at Yosuke. “And, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll wipe that smirk off of your face and keep your trap shut.”

Yosuke gaped, looking back and forth at the others, before settling on giving a fuming Chie a nervous grin.

_Her personality changed, almost between sentences,_ Naoto noted. She brought her hand to her mouth in thought. _Either she had a… reactive personality before, and this behavior is just part of it returning alongside her memories. Or, it’s a side effect of whatever was done to her._

_Or, perhaps something else entirely._

“Actually!” Chie’s face lit up. “There might be a job right in town that could work, if we can just pass Akira off as being at least twenty.”

“Why twenty?” Akira asked.

“I doubt that would be difficult in of itself,” Naoto said. “We’ve already established that she seems to be a few years older than ourselves. Twenty is a reasonable age, if we are to base said assumption solely upon appearance.”

“But—why?”

“The lady who runs Shiroku Store in the Shopping District mentioned that she was looking for some help,” Chie explained. “She said something about manual labor… and something involving alcohol at night.”

“Which would explain the age requirement,” Yukiko caught on.

“Twenty?” Akira still didn’t follow.

“Twenty is the legal drinking age in Japan,” Naoto clarified. Akira nodded once in understanding, before the young detective continued. “Yes, now that you mention it, I do recall Shiroku-san discussing the opening the last time I was in the store. If I’m not mistaken, the alcohol aspect would have to do with how she’s looking for a bartender to help mix and serve drinks at the bar.”

“Bar?” Akira echoed. “I wandered around Inaba for nearly twenty-four hours. I never saw a bar.”

“Shiroku-san turns her store into a bar during the evening hours.” Naoto looked up, noticing the looks the rest of the Team were giving her. “I merely witnessed the store’s converted state, along with patrons both arriving and departing, during a failed attempt to visit the bookstore before close.” She coughed once. “I would never drink alcohol in a public setting; inebriation results in a loss of personal control, and as a detective, I cannot allow for such a disgraceful situation.”

“What about the club from the school trip last year?” Yosuke asked.

“As I said then,” Naoto’s voice became strained, “I had already determined that there was no alcohol on the premises.”

“Sure,” Yosuke didn’t sound convinced, but he continued anyway. “I didn’t know about the Shiroku’s pub hours, though. Looks like I’ll have to take a different route when I go for evening walks, huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Chie turned to face him more directly, eyebrow raised. “Nakamura-san mentioned it at Aiya on Saturday. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard Aika actually _complain_ about something.” She added with a laugh.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Yosuke’s voice tensed. “I don’t remember going to Aiya! A-actually… I don’t remember Saturday at all!”

_Is Yosuke-senpai… blushing?_ Naoto noticed the slight pink streak over the bridge of the boy’s nose. He was also avoiding everyone’s gaze. _What could…?_

“I don’t understand you.” Chie grumbled under her breath, barely audible to the detective.

“Hey, man,” Akira said, “if it’s any consolation, I don’t remember 2007.”

Yukiko made a half-choking sound.

“Oh, _no_.” Yosuke buried his face in his hands.

But, once again, Yukiko was unable to control herself before she burst into yet another laughing fit.

“Sorry.” Akira chuckled.

“Well, then,” Naoto attempted to reclaim control on the conversation, “once we have made contact with Mitsuru-san, we can inquire further about the possibility of Akira working at the Shiroku. Agreed?”

The entire Team nodded—plus Akira and minus Yukiko, who was still laughing too hard.

“Well.” Yosuke scratched at the back of his neck. “Since we’re all here, I say we should work on our homework together.”

“I agree with Yosuke-kun,” Yukiko regained control of her voice. “Though, what will Teddie do?”

“I can practice my writing!” Teddie said cheerfully. “Sensei was teaching me how to write before he left, and Nao-chan and Chie-chan have been helping me since then!”

_If you consider rather hard critique of your handwriting from my end_ help… Naoto scowled. _And, please stop calling me Nao-chan._

“You?” Yosuke looked at Chie. “With your handwriting? Maybe he should ask Yukiko instead—or even Kanji!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Chie shot him another glare.

“Yeah!” Kanji joined in.

“If you would be so kind,” Naoto turned to Akira while her upperclassman stammered awkwardly, “there is a spare composition book on the desk in my office. The yellow one should suffice.”

“Uh, right!” Akira nodded, before disappearing through the dining room to said office.

Before Naoto could act further, her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up.

_New Email._

“What is it, Naoto-kun?” Yukiko asked, as the second year opened her phone to read the message.

“It’s from Mitsuru-san.”

“Really?” Yosuke asked, pulling out his mathematics textbook. “What’d she say?”

The email contained only a single line.

_Information received. Will be at yours tomorrow. Five. Contact if otherwise._

“That’s not cryptic at all,” Yosuke said with a scowl.

“It looks like I’m going to have company tomorrow.” Naoto rubbed her forehead. _So much for getting a solid head start on my studies this term._

_Ah, yes, but it’s better than being kidnapped and then bedridden,_ that annoying voice—still far too much like her own, only softer—retorted. _You recovered from missing weeks of class. This is of little concern in comparison._

“Look on the bright side,” Yukiko said. “We’ll have _something_ else to work with by class on Saturday, right?”

“Idealistically.” Naoto nodded once.

“Augh! Damn it!” Akira’s voice sounded from the dining room.

“We better make sure she didn’t accidently stab herself with something.” Yosuke stood up. He followed Naoto as the young detective walked into the other room.

Akira had the requested notebook under her arm, and was holding her free hand, the pointer finger exposed upwards. A thin line of red was visible, even at a slight distance.

“Paper cut?” Yosuke asked.

“Yes,” Akira hissed. “I forgot how much the damn things hurt.”

“Hey, you know how it is,” Yosuke walked over towards her. “The little things hurt the deepest, or something.” He gave her a playful punch on the shoulder.

And everything happened at once.

Later, Naoto would be able to recollect each action separately—a good skill for a detective; she was quite proud of possessing such a skill—but, in the moment, they all seemed to blend together in a single action.

Akira’s face snapped into sheer terror.

She grabbed Yosuke’s forearm with one hand.

A simple pivot and a step forward.

Yosuke pinned against the wall, said arm behind him in a firm hold.

Akira’s face twisted in confusion.

The barrel of Naoto’s pistol pressed against the base of Akira’s neck.

Naoto honestly didn’t remember when she’d put her gun holster on. She’d stopped by the police station after school, on her way home, but she couldn’t recall….

“Uh,” Akira stammered. “Naoto-kun? What’s going on? Why are we—why is your gun—what happened?”

“You wanna let me go?” Yosuke’s voice was mildly muffled against the wall.  

“Are you going to shoot me?”

“Let him go.” Naoto managed to keep her voice level and firm.

“Can you move the gun, please?” Akira’s voice betrayed her fear.

“Naoto,” Yosuke said as clearly as he could manage. “It’s okay. This doesn’t even hurt. I’m just pinned here.”

Naoto slowly moved the gun away, pausing before holstering it in her jacket again.

Akira let go of Yosuke, stumbling backwards. They both fell to the floor.

“What the _hell_ happened in here?” Kanji was standing at the threshold between the dining and drawing rooms. He had one hand gripped around the nearest dining chair, as if he’d been prepared to use it in much the same manner he had once done with folding chairs against Shadows.

“I… don’t know.” Yosuke slowly staggered to his feet. “I may have messed up.”

“Nothing new there.”

“Thank you.” Yosuke scowled at him.

“What’s with her, then?” Kanji motioned towards Akira. The tall woman was curled up in a near-fetal position against the wall. Her hands were clasped against her head. Her eyes were wide, staring at the floor, glossed over as if in a trance.

“That is an excellent question.” Naoto knelt down in front of the older woman. “Akira-san. Are you all right?”

“I….” She still stared, clearly seeing something other than her current surroundings. “I… I remember. Everything. Everything is…. I can….” Her breath became ragged and shallow. “What did they do to us? Why? I… I couldn’t…. I….”

“Akira-san?” Yosuke joined Naoto on the floor.

“I’m…I’m sorry. I couldn’t… couldn’t stop. Couldn’t save. I’m sorry. Cat.”

“Cat?” Kanji echoed.

“I’m gonna be sick.”

“No, you’re not,” Yosuke assured her. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He shot Naoto a look.

_He’s right. She needs to be alone and rest right now. If everything is coming back to her at once, then she’s going to be extremely overwhelmed with each recollection. Some of them apparently highly unpleasant._

She and Yosuke both hesitated, before each slowly took one of Akira’s arms. They gradually raised her to her feet and helped her into the office and onto the futon, one staggering step at a time.


	6. Recollection

Kanji stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment. He gingerly raised a hand, pushing his bangs back to briefly resemble his old, gelled-back style, before letting them fall forward again. He frowned.

“What am I even doing?” He sighed. _This is what I wanted, right?_

_Yeah,_ he nodded more firmly, glaring at himself. _I do._

“Kanji?” A voice broke his thoughts. He turned to face them.

Standing just in front of the door to the school bathroom was Naoki. He had one hand firmly grasped in the other, his skin irregularly stained red.

“Naoki?” He blinked. “What’s up? Somethin’ happen?”

The shorter boy gave a nervous chuckle.

“Remember that cat that likes to hang around our store? The grey tabby?”

“Yeah.” Kanji nodded. “Yu-senpai liked to feed it.” He used to run into him at night, the grey-haired boy with a bag of cat food or treats from the Shiroku.

“Well, I guess he only likes certain people.” Naoki laughed again, “He didn’t exactly warm up to me.”

“And you waited until you got to school to clean up?” Kanji raised a brow.

“Mom’s been tense lately. Well,” he amended, “even _more_ tense. I didn’t want to worry her. She’s been smothering me if I get so much as a paper cut.”

_I don’t blame her,_ Kanji frowned. _But, I get it’s probably annoying._

“It’s really not all that bad of a cut,” Naoki insisted, walking to the sink, turning the water on his arm. “He just surprised me, so the blood went everywhere.”

“Good thing you didn’t get it on your uniform. Blood’s a pain to get out.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Naoki gave a genuine laugh. “Though, I’m sure you’re really good at it.” He pulled his arm out, grabbing a paper towel to dry off with.

Kanji paused.

“Is that supposed to mean something?”

“What?” Naoki finished cleaning off his arm. “Just that you’re good with clothes, so I figured stains would be no problem for you.” He smiled. “I’m not Takazawa-senpai.” He paused. “Or Yosuke-senpai.”

“Good thing, too.” Kanji ran a hand through his hair. “One’s more than enough of either of ‘em.”

“So, uh.” Naoki looked away. “You’re here awfully early. Again.”

“S-so are you.” Kanji pointed out.

Naoki blinked at him for a long moment, before chuckling.

“I guess we’re both worried about her.”

“Wh-what?” Kanji stammered. “Wh-who? I ain’t w-worried ‘bout anyone.”

“Right.”

Kanji scratched at the back of his neck.

“Actually,” Naoki changed the subject, “I never did ask; why _did_ you stop bleaching your hair and—and all that?”

“Hmm?” Kanji looked at him. “I, uh, wanted to…. I didn’t need the old look anymore. Never did, I guess.” He ruffled his hair with one hand. “You know? Growing the black back in ended up being a bigger pain in the ass than I expected.”

“I bet.”

Kanji looked at his own blank expression in the mirror again.

 

…

…

 

Mid-June always sucked. If you were lucky, it rained, and brought some temporary relief from the heat. Granted, that would only increase the humidity for at least a few hours afterwards. But right now, Kanji would take it as the brief blessing that it was.

It would also get him out of this… situation.

It was Rise’s fault. It usually was.

She’d told him about how she hadn’t gotten to go on the school camping trip the summer before, due to transferring back to Yasogami too late. Even though Kanji had tried to tell her that the trip was actually kinda awful and just an excuse to get the students to pick up trash off the mountain for free, she was still determined to go. Rise had somehow managed to get Naoto—who had only just returned to Inaba from a case—to agree to be on a team with her, too; she probably blackmailed the young detective somehow. Or, just outright overwhelmed the poor girl with her demands. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d coerced their friend into something.

_Rise-san is quite difficult to tell no to,_ she had told him more than once.

And, she really was.

Because he’d found himself—and Naoki, poor guy—talked into joining them to form a full team.

Though, he and Naoto had both had the sense to only agree if Rise promised to let one of them cook. Naoto may not have been a spectacular chef, but her food was always more than edible, at least—which was better than Rise’s obsession with spice.

Unfortunately, when Rise had been convincing the boys to join, Naoki had let slip that some students liked to go swimming in the river on the second day. And that was when Rise made that face—the one that made Kanji feel like the shortest member of the Team, instead of the tallest.

Kanji liked Rise, there was no denying that. She was a good friend, especially when it counted.

But, the girl was absolutely evil.

The words _Naoto_ , _swimsuit_ , and a nosebleed, and suddenly she had all the blackmail she needed.

_And in front of Naoki, too._ Kanji’s scowl deepened. _Like I really needed someone_ else _bugging me about Naoto._

So, like that, Kanji found himself on the camping trip, sitting on the cliff above the river, in swimming trunks—Yosuke had insisted that he take a pair of normal trunks instead of his usual suit, though Kanji couldn’t figure out why—with his track jacket loosely draped over his shoulders, glaring up at the dark grey sky, hoping that it would rain. And soon.

“Kanji-kun?” A sudden voice behind him nearly sent him over the cliff.

“Naoto?” He felt heat explode across his face. _Oh, God._ He turned sharply to face her.

She was still in her track suit, the jacket slightly unzipped to show the bright blue shirt underneath. Kanji didn’t know if he was more relieved or disappointed.

“Ain’t you gonna swim?” Kanji looked away, down at the river, where several other students—including Rise and Naoki—were, playing keep away with a bright orange ball.

“That would require the use of a swimsuit.” Naoto sounded bored. “I do not possess one.”

“What about the school suit?”

“Yasogami does not have a pool,” Naoto said simply. “I never needed a suit—male or female—thus I never obtained one.” She paused. “Why aren’t you participating with the others?”

“Huh?”

“ _You_ are wearing a suit.” Naoto pointed out. “That would imply intent on swimming. Yet, you have not joined our classmates, despite multiple promptings from Rise-san and the others.”

“Yeah, well,” Kanji scratched at the back of his neck. “Guess Rise doesn’t _always_ get what she wants.” He looked back up to the sky. _C’mon. Rain._

“She’s wrong.”

“What?” Kanji turned to look at her. He tensed when she walked closer and sat down on the cliff’s edge next to him.

“You do not look like a, er, walking disaster.” She looked down at the others in the river.

“Nah,” Kanji focused his gaze at anything other than her. “I kinda do. It’s what happens when ya stop bleaching hair. Growin’ old color back always looks shitty for a while. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout just dyin’ the whole thing black. Be done with it, ya know?”

“It certainly is a logical idea,” Naoto said, pulling on her hat. “Though, I admit I know little about artificial hair coloring.”

Kanji ruffled his hair. He knew that the black strands were still half-bleached, the color change extremely uneven throughout. It also didn’t help any that he simply let his hair lay flat without any real combing or styling of any sort—a lot like how he’d kept it as a boy, before he’d gelled it back.

“I should probably do somethin’ with it, once it’s all black again,” he said, half to himself. “Get it cut, or whatever.” He paused. When she didn’t break the silence, he continued. “Maybe something… tame. Ya know, traditional. To really break from the whole punk look.” He glanced at her. She was staring at the river, watching as the orange ball hit Naoki in the face—hopefully on accident.  “Wh-whadaya think?”

“Huh?” Naoto looked at him briefly, before looking back down with a shrug. “I am hardly one to ask for opinion. Perhaps Rise-san could give you a more… valuable out—”

“I don’ care what Rise thinks!” Kanji blurted out. She turned sharply towards him, blinking in mild surprise. “I-I mean, uh, I di-didn’t ask R-Rise. I-I asked _you_!” He looked away, keeping his back to her as much as he could, without falling off of the cliff. “S-so don’ think tha’ your opinion don’ matter, or whatever.” Heat spread throughout his face, reaching his ears.

_Way to go, Tatsumi. Not creepy at all._

“I… I do not possess the knowledge to form a s-solid opinion of my own, is all.” She eventually said, her voice quiet. “You should… form your decision on… what makes you happy. Not others.” She paused for a long moment. “Th-though, if you still desire the input of others, you really should ask Rise-san. She’s far more… knowledgeable about….” She faltered.

“Yeah,” Kanji looked at the river, “I tried yesterday. She just—” He cut himself off, remembering the smirk she’d given him.

_Oh, I see!_ She had then poked him in the arm. _You want to look_ handsome _, do you? This wouldn’t happen to be because of a certain—!_

_Shuddup, Rise! I just don’ wanna look like an idiot!_

“Rise’s such a—!” Kanji started, scowling at the river. “I mean, she’s not—but, she’s—she’s—where is she?” He noticed that she wasn’t with the others in the river anymore.

“What?” Naoto joined him in scanning the river below, looking for their friend.

“Heeeeeelloooo!” A bright voice sounded from behind them.

“Crap,” Kanji breathed as they turned to face—

“Rise-san.” Naoto’s voice was level. “Why aren’t you swimming with the others?”

“What about you, Naoto-kun?” Rise asked, walking up to her and leaning down to look her in the eye. “Why aren’t _you_ swimming?”

“I told you this morning, Rise-san; I do not own a swimsuit.”

“What about the beauty pageant?” Rise blinked at her.

Naoto’s face turned red.

“We agreed to never mention that again.” She recomposed herself. “Furthermore, that suit you tried to force into my possession was poorly tailored. It would never have sufficed for actual use.”

_Do. Not. Think. About. It._ Kanji told himself.

“Uh huh.” Rise didn’t sound convinced. Her smile returned, wider this time, and her eyes narrowed. She straightened back up, standing as tall as she could manage, looking down at them with her smirk.

_This can’t be good._

“Well, I guess I can forgive you. This _is_ a rather romantic spot. Especially for you.”

“Wh-what?” Naoto stammered, while Kanji simply made a choking sound.

“That _is_ why you two are up here, away from everyone, right?”

“Rise-san, as usual, nothing you say makes any sense.” Naoto pulled down on the brim of her hat, completely covering her eyes.  

“Oh?” Rise asked. “What about what you said last—?”

“As I said—that did _not_ happen!”

“What didn’t happen?”

“N-nothing!” Naoto was clearly flustered. It was… weird to see. Despite her tight grip on her hat, still holding the brim down over her eyes, she was also glaring straight up at Rise. The result was a very poorly disguised blush that covered half of her face.

“Sure, Naoto-kun!” Rise giggled. “And that thing I told you this morning, about how—!”

“Rise-san!” Naoto stood up sharply, turning as best as she could to face Rise directly. “I _told_ you— _oh_!” Unfortunately, she was standing on the edge of the cliff, and the quick motion meant that she lost her balance, and fell backwards off of it.

“Naoto!” Kanji yelled, reaching for her. His hand grazed hers, but he couldn’t quite reach. The momentum of the action lead to him falling forwards off of the cliff after her.

_Not again_ , was all Kanji could think before he hit the water.

He recovered, standing waist-deep in the river, scowling at the sight of his track jacket slowly floating downstream. He grabbed it, cursing bitterly under his breath.

Naoto emerged from underwater next to him with a loud gasp. She grabbed her hat from the water, twisting it to drain the water from the fabric. An upside—or maybe a downside—of the track suit was that, even when it was soaked, it didn’t do much to flatter a person’s figure; Naoto’s tiny frame was just as much of a mystery as it had been five minutes ago.

“You ‘kay?” Kanji asked.

“Do you think she knows that I possess the knowledge to commit murder without leaving forensic evidence?” Naoto looked up at Rise, who was looking over the cliff edge at them. The idol was too far away to really make out her expression.

“I think that spendin’ all that time with Yu-senpai gave ya a really twisted sense of humor.”

“Are you guys okay?” Naoki asked, half-walking, half-swimming up to them.

“I am surprisingly unharmed,” Naoto said. Her calm tone sent a chill down Kanji’s spine. The young detective put her cap back on her head, scowling when a small torrent of water streamed down her face from it.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” Kanji said. “Not the first time I’ve fallen off of that cliff.” _Is the last, though. Never doin’ this again. Never._

He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the river.

His hair really _did_ look terrible, the bleach-blond and black ruffled together, with only his roots a solid, natural color. Being soaked and dripping with river water didn’t help, either.

_That’s it. As soon as I get home, I’m just dyin’ the whole thing black._

“Naoto-kun!” Rise shouted from the cliff. “Moronji!” The nickname made Kanji tense. “Are you all right!”

Neither of them shouted back, Naoto choosing to simply give her a sort of half-wave.

“Well,” Kanji said. “At least it can’t get worse, right?”

Naoki and Naoto exchanged a glance.

“I guess,” Naoki said. “I mean, I don’t….”

His words were cut off, however, by the first drops of rain. Kanji looked up, gaping at the darkening sky.

_You wanted rain_ , a voice that sounded annoyingly like his own pointed out in the back of his mind.

_Rise_ , he decided, as the first drops quickly turned into a downpour that sent the students scrambling out of the river, _is_ definitely _evil._

 

…

…

 

Kanji shook his head, bringing himself back to the present.

Naoki was inspecting the now-cleaned wound on his forearm.

Kanji gave his hair another ruffle, before combing it straight again. He sighed, but walked out of the school bathroom without another word to the preoccupied Naoki.

Out in the school entryway, he found Naoto, standing in front of her shoe locker. She was scowling at something in her hand. A stack of envelopes.

Kanji would be a lot more disheartened by the sight—a common one, too—if he didn’t know that she didn’t even read any of the love letters she got. Blunt as she was, she wasn’t heartless; she had the heart to take them home and dispose of them there. But.

But, it did put him in a… weird spot.

He’d once considered writing one himself—and almost instantly decided it was a really stupid idea. She’d never read it. He wasn’t all that romantic, anyway, and had no idea what to write without sounding totally stupid. He really didn’t want solid evidence that proved his… thing for the detective.

Besides. Even if… _even if_ ….

There was no way she’d ever… _go_ for him.

At best, it would be a wasted effort. At worst, it would result in heartbreak and harm their friendship.

He walked up to her with an awkward cough.

“Good morning, Kanji-kun.” She didn’t look up, placing the letters down in her locker before working on changing her shoes.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled, looking at the floor.

“You’re here early,” Naoto pointed out. “And your uniform is almost compliant.”

_What?_ Kanji blinked at her, before looking at his shirt.

He’d forgotten that he had—partly due to how tired he’d been when he woke up that morning—put on a white uniform shirt, though with a bright yellow undershirt visible from the open top buttons. He hadn’t followed uniform so closely since elementary school.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” Kanji tried to shrug off the remark.

Maybe Kanji was seeing things—due to exhaustion or wishful thinking, or both—but he could swear he saw a small smile tug at the corner of her lips.

“Are you on duty today?” Naoto asked.

“What?” Kanji blinked again. “Nah, I just… I dunno. Felt like comin’ in early.”

“Well, it’s certainly an improvement over your old truancy.” Naoto adjusted her hat. “Shall we—?”

“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice cut her off. They turned towards the doors. A tall, thin teenage boy stood in front of them, arms crossed with a sneer on his face. He had sand brown, short, spiked hair and wore his track jacket over his summer uniform.

_Takazawa_ , Kanji frowned at the third-year. _Great._

“Good morning, Takazawa-senpai,” Naoto kept her voice as calm as ever.

“If it isn’t Yasogami’s favorite sweethearts,” his voice was heavy with disdain.

Irritation started to burn in Kanji’s gut.

“I don’t follow your insinuations,” Naoto’s voice remained steady.

“You know, Tatsumi,” the older boy looked up at Kanji, “your boyfriend isn’t all that smart, for a detective.”

“I beg your pardon?” Naoto asked, while the irritation in Kanji’s stomach burned hotter.

“Sneaking into school early for a secret little tryst?” Takazawa’s smirk widened. “Think no one would know that way?” He made a noise of disgust.

Naoto’s face was nearly as red as Kanji’s, but she managed to at least appear relatively calm, while it took everything Kanji had to not knock the upperclassman’s teeth in.

“Who I am or am not… intimate with is solely my own business—and that of the theoretical partner.” Kanji had no idea how Naoto managed to keep her cool like that. Maybe it was a detective thing. “The last time I checked, you are _not_ said partner, theoretical or otherwise.” Her words slowly took on an edge, and her eyes narrowed, burning in a way that made Kanji’s gut churn.

Takazawa’s face fell for a moment, a light blush visible on his face. His expression quickly soured to straight anger.

“Just like you to go for a guy like this, Tatsumi,” the hostile teen avoided the girl’s burning gaze. “Tiny and nerdy. Makes you feel like a big, tough guy, huh?”

“Shut up,” Kanji growled. His shoulders tensed and his fists were tight enough that his nails were starting to dig into his skin.

“You are aware that I’m female, yes?” Naoto almost sounded uninterested.

_How the hell does she do that?_

“Or,” she continued, “are you truly _that_ unobservant?”

Kanji had almost forgotten how much of a jerk Naoto had been before joining the Team. And, judging by his face, so had Takazawa.

“Yeah, but you ain’t much of a chick, are ya?”

The burning in Kanji’s gut erupted into full-fledged anger. He grabbed his upperclassman by the collar of his shirt, slamming him back against the lockers. Takazawa made a choking sound.

“Kanji-kun!” Naoto said sharply. “Let him go.”

Kanji hesitated, his breath coming in ragged bursts. He slowly let the older boy go. Takazawa slid to the floor.

“So, you really _are_ whipped,” he said between coughs. “Knew it; just like you queers to stick together.”

“Do ya not _learn_?” Kanji snapped.

“Is there a problem here?” A voice cut in, causing all three teenagers to turn to face them.

Naoki was standing near the stairway, another student—a third year in the full track suit—standing next to him. _Daisuke-senpai._ The elder boy had his arms crossed, glaring straight at the one on the floor.

“If you have time for this… indiscretion,” Daisuke’s anger practically dripped from every word, “then you have time to run laps before homeroom.”

“What?” Takazawa stood up, staring at the soccer captain.

“You know, I think Kashiwagi-san’s in the faculty break room,” Naoki said. “I could go get her to settle this.”

“Fine,” Takazawa growled, standing up. He slinked past the others, down the hall and out towards the track.

“I really hate that punk,” Daisuke sighed once he was out of earshot.

“Then, why keep him on the team?” Naoki looked at the third year.

Daisuke shrugged. “If he’s at practice, then he’s not out getting into trouble.” He looked at Naoto. “Or causing it.” He turned to Kanji. “Let me know if he bothers you again. Any of you.”

“S-sure thing, senpai.” Kanji blinked at him.

Naoto nodded once, but said nothing. She pulled at the brim of her hat. She opened her locker, taking out a can of coffee.

“This is going to be a long day,” she muttered, barely audible to Kanji. She walked slowly to the stairs, and up to the second floor. Unable to find anything to say, Kanji simply watched.

He frowned.

Kanji wasn’t stupid. He knew that she hurt a lot more than she looked. By now, he’d noticed that while Takazawa preferred to speak at _him_ while he spewed his shit, his insults were primarily based around Naoto, particularly about her gender. He was an ass, either way, but he seemed to be especially pissed off at _her_.

Yet, Naoto didn’t exactly go looking for trouble—not with their classmates. She _had_ been a bit of a jerk before, sure—and sometimes still came off as one. But, still; Kanji had never witness her even speak to Takazawa before he’d started harassing them. He was a year older than them and they’d never really interacted.

So, what was that asshole’s problem?

 

…

…

 

“Shirogane-san,” the red-haired woman spoke softly. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is fine,” Naoto said into her coffee mug. She took a long sip. “Thank you again for your prompt arrival, Mitsuru-san.”

“Of course,” Mitsuru said with a nod. “To be honest, it was in our best interest to investigate the situation as soon as possible.”

“There is a robot touching my head,” Akira said in a flat tone from her chair at the table. Aigis was standing behind her, the suit-clad, blonde android had her hands resting on top of the young woman’s cranium.

“Please attempt to hold as still as possible,” Aigis said. “I am trying to fully scan your systems in a safe and quick manner.”

“There is a robot touching my head.” The woman seemed to be struggling with the concept. “This isn’t even the weirdest thing to happen to me lately. There is a _robot_ touching my head.”

“She’s taking this rather well,” Mitsuru said.

They were gathered in Naoto’s dining room. Mitsuru stood near the table, where Akira and Naoto sat at opposite sides from each other. Despite the older woman’s outburst the previous night, Naoto had stuck to her insistence that she wasn’t a hostage and had left her unchained.

Aigis’s robotic body was almost completely hidden by a black military suit, complete with red tie, with only her hands and headband suggesting her true nature. Mitsuru had foregone the catsuit she’d worn in May, instead donning a black, double breasted coat over same-colored pants, though she’d kept the white fur coat she’d worn when she’d first met and worked with Naoto. The young detective was still dressed in her school uniform, wishing that it was later in the year to permit use of the uniform’s jacket. Akira, by comparison, appeared underdressed in  a pair of jeans and a dark blue buttoned shirt, both slightly oversized, even on her frame.

Akira had been generally unresponsive the rest of the previous night, after her… outburst. Naoto wasn’t certain when the woman had fallen asleep, but she had still been when the detective had checked on her before school this morning.

Naoto frowned, remembering what’d happened at school.

“She’s been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours.” Naoto took another long sip. “When you contacted me, she was still suffering from almost complete amnesia. Less than an hour later, an… incident resulted in her memories all being triggered at once.”

“I’m still sorting through most of them.” Akira added softly.

Mitsuru hesitated. “Is there anything in particular you wish to discuss?”

Akira shrugged. “I know that I lived in an American city. I also know that I was—technically—homeless.”

“Technically homeless?” Mitsuru echoed.

“I lived with a group of others in a run-down building in a… neighborhood of poor reputation. The place we called home was owned by a businessman who allowed us to live there, so long as we participated in his… secret, secondary business.”

“You mean…?” Mitsuru trailed off.

“What?” Akira looked at her. Her face lit up in horror. “What? No! No, not that. No, we were fighters.”

“What?” All three other women turned sharply to face her.

“We were members of an underground fighting ring. People in the city—really _sick_ people, now that I think about it—would come to watch us fight each other, placing bets and so forth. I guess it was a bit like amateur wrestling or something, but it obviously wasn’t regulated or…. Few fights ever ended in any actual, serious injury; only one person ever died in the several years I was there.” She paused. “That we were there.”

“We?” Aigis echoed.

“I had a friend, I guess,” Akira clarified. “More like… a partner of sorts. We’d… bonded when we were kids, struggling to survive on the streets. We’d discovered that survival was easier when we worked together. She was brilliant, really. I generally allowed her to make the decisions for us; even when we ended up as members of the ring, our lives did improve. We got better food and shelter. We had access to healthcare.”

“Was?” Naoto knew what was coming, and dreaded hearing the next words.

“Yes.” Akira looked at the table. “She’s dead. One of the few memories I’ve been able to really sort through is of our kidnapping. We’d both fought back, but they’d had a much more difficult time attempting to subdue her. I’m not entirely sure what happened, but she was bleeding—a lot—when I lost consciousness. The only memory I currently have of the place they took us… is waking up and hearing someone yell at a second person… because they let her die.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” She gave a dry laugh. “To be honest, it’s amazing we lived as long as we did. Two underage girls on the streets of an American city? Neither of us white? I _do_ remember the crime rates, and how they skewed against… certain demographics.” A bitterness crept in her voice. “Neither of us had real names. On the streets… they called her Cat.”

“That would explain what you said last night,” Naoto said.

Akira nodded. “Actually, we were usually addressed as a pair. The Queen of the Alley Cats and her loyal Mutt. That’s what they called us. That’s why the word mutt had meaning to me. It was the closest thing to a name I had before. Mutt.” She paused. “Names don’t have much value in the ring; they changed frequently. In our cases, they tended to keep in theme with what we were known as on the streets. My last… title before my kidnapping was… the Hound of Hell. Not very creative, but the crowd loved it.”

“So, people paid money to watch you fight other human beings?” Naoto clarified. “In a run-down building? With or without weapons?”

“Yes. And, most fights were unarmed. Like I said, victory was typically declared before anyone was seriously injured; having a fighter die or be out of commission would only shrink the pool of combatants, and that was bad for business. I certainly never pushed a fight further than it had to go; I’m energetic, I suppose, but not aggressive, despite everything.” She looked at her hands. “Though, we did each get training with a weapon of some sort. No firearms, though. No sport in a fight when a gun’s involved, I guess. I was trained to use blades. Some type of short sword, though I only ever used one at a time.”

“Explains the report from the night of your escape,” Mitsuru spoke up. “The way you wielded your makeshift weapon would indicate that you’d subconsciously fallen back on those learned instincts.” She paused. “You were probably taught how to use a sabre or cutlass.” 

Akira shrugged. “We didn’t use them very much. Actually, for a bunch of people that beat each other up on a regular basis, none of us held grudges. We looked out for each other, made sure that everyone had food and warmth, especially during the winter. People are weird, I guess. Or maybe we just were. I don’t really know.” She paused. “I’m still sorting through the rest.”

“There is no need to rush,” Naoto said. “Take your time. None of us wish to risk harm to you by accelerating the process.”

Akira blinked at her for a long moment, before nodding.

“My scans have completed.” Aigis announced, changing the subject. “Beyond some minor malnutrition from a lack of a proper diet for a period of several weeks, which is already recovering from her treatment here, she is in relatively positive health.” The android paused. “I have also determined a potential source for the amnesia and effects on her mental status.”

Naoto looked at Akira, before turning to face the android directly.

“What is it?”

Aigis looked at Mitsuru, who nodded once.

“There are a series of chips embedded in her brain.”

“What?” The others asked in unison.

“You mean,” Akira added, “like a computer?”

“That is not an inappropriate comparison.” Aigis walked towards Mitsuru. “These chips are active, and are likely the reason you are able to comprehend and speak in Japanese.” She paused. “However, they are also completely unresponsive to other outside stimuli, including numerous signals I attempted to send during the scanning process.”

“What the hell did they do to me?” Akira asked no one in particular.

“I cannot determine a particular goal at this time,” Aigis replied anyway. “I would require further information to form a hypothesis.”

“No, it’s all right.” Akira looked at the table. “This is already more than I knew this morning. Do you think I’m… in danger? From the chips, I mean?”

“I would have to calculate the odds as being significantly low.” Aigis looked between Mitsuru and Naoto. “The chips’ receivers are not only currently unresponsive, but are also short-range. Assuming the individual or individuals who implanted them are not currently in the next apartment, they should be of little concern.”

Naoto and Mitsuru exchanged a look.

“Mitsuru-san. Naoto-san. May I speak to you in private?”

“Of course,” Mitsuru said. She looked at Akira. “Assuming our new friend is not offended by her exclusion.”

“Not at all.” Akira shook her head. “I actually… would like to go to bed early. It’s… been a long week.”

“Will you still be alright on your own tomorrow?” Naoto asked.

“Yes.” Akira stood up. “Honestly, I’d prefer it. I’ve got a lot to sort through. Trying to do too much at once gives me a headache, too.”

“Please do not overexert yourself.” Aigis said. She produced a card, handing it to the woman. “Also, please take this.”

Akira took it. It appeared to be a driving license, with a proper photo of the woman on the card.

“What is this?”

“Something to make your life easier while we sort this out.” Mitsuru explained. “This will establish an identity for you, and it allows you to operate a basic motorcycle, moped, or scooter. This way, you can more safely interact in town, if you desire, and even obtain a job. It will even hold up to police investigation; consider it a gift from the Shadow Operatives.”

“I have a name?” Akira asked. “Like, officially?”

“Yes, though you may want to use adoption as your cover story.” Mitsuru smiled. “Good to meet you, and good luck, Akira Yamasaki.” She held out a hand.

_A common family name_ , Naoto noted. _People will be much more willing to accept that, though the adoption cover is something that will have to be… worked with._

“Th-thank you,” Akira awkwardly shook the offered hand. “Er, Kirijo-san.”

“Mitsuru,” she insisted, “please.”

“All right. Mitsuru-san. Thank you. And thank you, too, Aigis-san. This all means a lot to me. I know you have a vested interest in… figuring me out, too, but….”

“It is understandable to desire an understanding of one’s self,” Aigis said warmly. “I hope we meet again, under more pleasant circumstances.”

“Y-yes,” Akira said with a sharp nod. “W-well. Good night.” She retreated into the office with a short bow.

“Would my bedroom suffice for further discussion?” Naoto stood up, abandoning her nearly-empty mug on the table. It and the kitchen were the rooms furthest away from the office.

“Yes,” Aigis said.

Once there, Mitsuru almost immediately turned to Aigis.

“You found something else,” she said firmly. “Something that has you concerned.”

“Naoto-san,” the android looked at the detective. “You recall the Shadow-like substances recovered from multiple scenes?”

“Yes, it was… mixed with regurgitation.”

“That is likely due to her body’s attempts to adjust.” Aigis looked at Mitsuru. “Akira-san’s bloodstream also contained varying amounts of the same substance. As did her digestive system.”

“What does that mean?” Mitsuru asked.

“Her body is somehow both producing and consuming this substance.”

“What?” Naoto gaped at her. “Why? How?”

“I cannot say. I would have to assume that whatever experiments were preformed upon her by her captors are the cause, but beyond that, I do not have sufficient information to even form a hypothesis.”

“Wonderful.” Mitsuru looked at the floor. “So she could be in medical danger, but we have no knowledge of how it would affect her or how to treat it.”

“That is not all I found.”

They looked at her again.

“There were also trace amounts of a number of drugs in her bloodstream. I can give you a full list, but most are unremarkable, save for one.” She hesitated. “Whoever did this also has access to the same drugs that Shinjiro-san once took.”

“Persona Suppressors?” Mitsuru’s eyes widened.

“What?” The term was new to Naoto.

“But, that would mean….”

“However, there were none of the expected side-effects on her body from them.”

“I’m afraid I’m not following,” Naoto said.

“It would take longer to explain that we have for tonight,” Mitsuru said. “I shall send you documentation with all the information we have on the subject.” She looked at the detective. “In the meantime, keep a distant eye on her, particularly her body’s ability to regulate temperature. Make sure she always has access to a strong coat and hat. And, inform her to always keep her distance from televisions.”

“Why?” Naoto wanted _some_ answers.

“Whoever did this might have been trying to forcibly awaken her Persona.”

“What.”

_How?_ Naoto gaped at her. Was this incident simply a repeat of Golden Week? A jolt of pain shot through Naoto's back from the memory of how—

“Unfortunately, there is little else we can do at this time.” Mitsuru sighed. “We shall keep in touch, Shirogane-san.” She adjusted her coat. “Please inform us of any further developments. Aigis and myself will remain nearby.”

“O-of course,” Naoto said with a nod.

“Well then,” Mitsuru looked at Aigis. “I’m certain that you would like some rest, yourself. We can let ourselves out; unless there’s something else you need?”

Naoto hesitated.

“No. Thank you for your assistance tonight.”

“Of course. Good evening, Shirogane-san.”

“Good night, Naoto-san,” Aigis said in a brighter tone.

“Good night, Aigis-san, Mitsuru-san.”

The two exited the room, leaving the young detective alone.

Naoto staggered to her bed, slowly sitting down on it.

This was not something she'd counted on when she'd decided to use her detective skills to help solve Shadow-related cases, back in May.

_What is even going on?_ Her head was spinning. _What am I getting involved in? What am I getting_ the Team _involved in?_

Her cell phone lit up on her nightstand. She opened it. She had numerous missed texts.

All from Kanji.

Naoto blinked at her phone for a long moment, before reading them in order.

_Hey, Naoto. Just checking that you’re still good for tomorrow. Ma got stuff for dango. I could make some, if you’re cool with that._

_And. Are you okay? You seemed out of it today._

_He was wrong, you know. Don’t listen to that asshat._

_Naoto, there’s nothing wrong with you._

_Naoto?_

The time between each text varied, but the time between the one she’d just received and the previous text was a little over twenty minutes.

Naoto recalled the confrontation with the upperclassman earlier that morning. Her gut churned.

Takazawa had a grudge against her. She knew that; multiple sources of evidence supported it. Today was simply one more case of it.

And, she had a suspicion that she finally understood why.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

She didn’t want to deal with this right now. Her chest was tight enough as it was.

_TOMORROW IS STILL FINE. UR COOKING IS ALWAYS WELCOME. THX. GOODNIGHT._

She closed her phone. She would handle the other issues later.


	7. Cobalt

Naoki knew something was wrong. It had been forming ice balls in his stomach since before homeroom.

Naoto had been late.

Well, not officially. She still arrived before the bell marked her as tardy. But, she still didn’t arrive until nearly everyone else had.

Which—for Naoto, who was always early—was late.

Then, she disappeared at lunch. And didn’t come back to class.

Kanji said that she got off early for something related to work. A fellow detective had her helping on a case. Discreetly, apparently, serving more as a consultant than a direct investigator. Naoki suspected it had something to do with the woman she was letting stay at her apartment—Akira, wasn’t it?

Kanji said that she sent him a text saying she’d still be at his house by five for the movie, but that she wasn’t responding otherwise.

And she hadn’t responded to his concerns last night, either.

They were probably both overreacting—this was Naoto, practically nothing got to her.

Or, did it?

Naoki had rarely ever seen her get significantly irritated. He’d only seen her outright lose her temper twice, once at Rise and once at Yosuke. The former seemed to know something that could actually fluster the otherwise stoic detective, and the latter’s foot was typically shoved so deep in his mouth that not even a monk could keep their temper with him. And, he’d never seen her cry, not once. She hadn’t even gotten teary-eyed at the most emotional of the movies they’d watched during movie nights—a bit of a switch of expectations when Kanji _had_ on multiple occasions, and even Naoki got choked up at a parent-child reunion in one of their last movies.

So, was she just being distant because of work again?

Or was this her having some sort of emotional meltdown?

Naoki frowned at the backpack. He halfheartedly put a few more cans of root beer and TaP in it. He looked at the bags of microwave popcorn on his bed next to the pack. Kanji said he was making snacks—he always did when he played host now—but….

_No harm in being prepared._ He tossed them in as well, zipping the bag up and swinging it onto one shoulder.

The store was quiet, as was usual now, though there were a few customers. One in particular, a rather jittery-looking fellow, was discussing the details of a particular bottle of wine with Naoki’s father. _Probably looking for something for dinner with a girlfriend or something_. To be honest, aside from the older section of the community and the younger adults trying to impress others, the only real constant business they had anymore was Old Lady Shiroku; the pub she ran at night got its alcohol exclusively from Konishi Liquors. That, and the soda vending machines just outside the front door.

Naoki took about three steps out the door, before he was nearly knocked over by a woman running down the sidewalk. Wearing an apron and knit hat, she was clearly a local housewife, likely on her way to Shiroku for some emergency item or another.

“Always in a rush,” a deep voice chuckled. Naoki turned to face the speaker.

A man in black jeans and a leather coat was leaning against the shutters of the old store next door, long out-of-business. A motorcycle was parked, leaning against the store next to him, a black-and-green helmet on the ground at his feet. The man was eating a croquette, likely from Souzai Daigaku down the street.

“What?” Naoki blinked at him.

The man ran one hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

“People nowadays,” he didn’t look at Naoki, “are always in a rush. Always running and speeding through life, never taking the time to live the moments they’re in.”

“Odd point of view for a biker,” Naoki pointed out.

“I obey speed limits.” The biker chuckled, still not looking at him. “Otherwise, you’re just passing through the places that you actually belong.”

Naoki raised an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said quietly, turning around and walking away, down the street towards Tatsumi Textiles.

At least this biker seemed friendly enough. The ones from the other day had been aggressive; Naoki would take an eccentric loner over a bunch of punks any day.

Nearby the entrance to the textile shop, Naoto stood in front of the entrance to the town’s shrine, talking to Yosuke Hanamura.

The ice in Naoki’s stomach churned again.

Naoto had obviously been to her apartment since school ended; even though she still had her school bag, she had changed her shirt from the school uniform’s to a light-blue buttoned shirt—the sleeves ending just past her elbows—and a yellow tie. Her eyes were completely hidden under the brim of her hat.

He slowly walked up to them.

“…with it tomorrow,” Yosuke finished a sentence. “I’m already late as it is. Uh—I mean—hey, Naoki-kun!” He cut off his own stammer with a wave to the younger boy.

“Good afternoon, Naoki-kun.” Naoto turned to face him. “I am not late, am I?”

“What?” Naoki adjusted his backpack. “No, I was…. No, you’re not late; I just left, too.”

“Tell Kanji I said hey,” Yosuke said with a half-wave as he staggered down the street, towards Aiya.

“Yosuke-senpai’s acting weirder than usual,” Naoki said.

Naoto chuckled. “No, he just thinks that he’s better at concealing secrets than he actually is.” She paused. “Regardless, shall we proceed?”

Naoki resisted a laugh of his own. “Sure.”

They entered the textile shop to find Kanji’s mother adjusting a display of elaborately detailed scarves.

“Ah, good evening, Naoki-kun, Naoto-kun,” she greeted them with a warm smile. “How are you tonight?”

“Evening, Tatsumi-san. I’m good.”

“Pleasant enough,” Naoto tipped her hat politely. “Yourself?”

“I cannot complain. Kanji is in the living room.” Her smile widened. “He seems deeply concerned over something, but refuses to speak about it.”

Naoto and Naoki exchanged a long glance.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to concern yourself over,” Naoto said softly.

“Probably just stress over schoolwork,” Naoki added.

“Yes, he is taking his studies far more seriously lately.” She smiled again. “I’m sure the two of you had something to do with that.”

Naoto pulled down on her hat, but said nothing.

“I don’t know about that,” Naoki chuckled. “Well, we’ll go join Kanji, now.” They gave her a polite nod, before passing through the back door.

Despite his mother’s words, Kanji wasn’t in the living room. The low table had been brought in front of the aging, floral print sofa. On the table sat a large plate, with several skewers of dango, the round dumplings all green in color. Naoki and Naoto exchanged another quick glance.

“Kanji-kun?” Naoto spoke up.

“Yo!” His voice came from the kitchen. “Be there in a sec!”

Naoki shrugged at Naoto, before walking over to the far end of the couch. He slid his pack off to the ground before practically collapsing onto the seat, right next to the arm. He sank back into the fabric with an exhausted sigh.

“It has been a rather strenuous week,” Naoto said in a flat tone. She didn’t move from where she stood, staring at the blank television.

She was still standing there when Kanji entered from the kitchen, carrying several cans of orange soda. He placed them on the table, before looking at her with a raised eyebrow.

“You okay?” He asked.

“What?” She started, turning to face him. She blinked for a moment. “I’m fine.” She staggered towards the couch, sitting almost perfectly in the middle. “I’m simply tired.” She let her bag slip to the floor.

“Uh,” Kanji rubbed at the back of his neck, not looking at either of them. “O-only one flavor turned out right. I c-can make somethin’ else if it ain’t enough.”

“It’s quite all right.” Naoto didn’t look at him, focusing her gaze on the plate of food.

“I brought popcorn, too,” Naoki pulled the bags out of his pack.

“Cool.”

Naoki could feel the dread in the air. The unspoken words, questions, and half-answers.

Something was very wrong.

_The movie will help. Everyone will feel better. We always do._

The ice in his stomach spiked into icicles.

 

…

…

 

The figure stood in the phone booth, phone against her ear, listening to the sound of ringing for near on two minutes before it finally stopped.

A soft buzz filled the sealed booth, but was otherwise silent until she finally spoke.

“Reporting.” Her voice was raw, as if it hadn’t been used in weeks. “Inaba.” There was a long pause, as she kneaded the knit cap in her free, gloved hand. “Yes. Subject located. Fifteen minutes ago. Local store.” She hesitated. “It seems to be attempting to reestablish its own identity.” Another pause. “Risk of a Class A Incident is high, inevitable if not—yes, sir.” Silence. “No, sir. First attempt was completely unresponsive. It is likely damaged. Team is in place and ready to extract the subject at any—yes, sir. We shall remain.” Another, much longer pause, the buzzing increasing in volume. “Absolutely, sir. Affirmative.” She pressed the switch, hanging up.

She pulled out a cloth, wiping off the phone. A curious action to a theoretical outside observer; she couldn’t leave behind fingerprints while wearing gloves. Replacing the receiver, she exited the booth into the early evening.

“So,” a deep voice started as soon as she closed the door behind her. “What’s the word from on high?”

“Your irritable habits are the reason you remain a complete subordinate,” the concept in her voice was thick as she turned to the man in the long, black leather trench coat.  She adjusted her own, similar coat, refusing to look him in the eye.

“Yeah, well,” he chuckled between bites of his sandwich, “I sold my _soul_ to the devil, not my spirit.” He paused to finish off his meal. “Still. What are our orders?”

“To stand by.” The woman put on her cap, folding her long hair up under it. “Watch, observe, make regular reports.”

“So, we get to play combination stalker-and-babysitter.” The man sighed. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic.” He pulled down on his own knitted hat, and thrust his hands in his coat.

“At least we’re getting some fog setting in,” the woman pointed out.

“Fog?” He looked at her. “Nah.” He looked at the sky. “It’s gonna rain. Long and hard. Good thing, too. Keep people in, with each other.”

“I’ll never understand why our superiors let you off-base.” The woman scoffed.

“Because I can still _think_ ,” he laughed. “One of us has to. Besides, I’m the only one in the squad who can actually drive a motorcycle.” He started walking down the sidewalk, out of the light of the street lamp above.

“Where are you going?” The woman asked, though she stayed where she was.

“I’d _like_ to get a drink,” he said, not stopping, “but, I have to lay low for a while, now. I’m going back to the inn. Don’t contact me unless Mister-High-and-Mighty has new orders. I’ll contact you; we can’t risk being seen together.” He raised a hand in farewell as he vanished into the night. “See ya, ya twisted hag.”

“Arrogant bastard.” The woman took out a cigarette, lighting it. She took a long drag off of it, before turning and walking down the sidewalk, in the opposite direction. The small firelight followed her into the distance.

 

…

…

 

Naoto woke instantly. She always woke instantly.

She didn’t move, trying to take stock of the situation.

She was looking straight at the television. A recently released animated film was playing on it.

_Movie night._ She remembered. _I’m at Kanji-kun’s house, along with Naoki-kun. We’re watching movies._ The thought process was rather simple, but it was straightforward and answered her questions instantly. _I must be far more exhausted than I thought, if I fell asleep while watching a movie. Particularly such a… loud one._

Next observation: she was warm. Unevenly so. Half of her body was still roughly room temperature, while the other was significantly warmer. It wasn’t completely unpleasant, however perplexing. Secondary observation: she was leaning slightly against the source of said warmth.

Said source was a human body.

_Kanji-kun!_

Heat erupted across her entire face. She jerked away, sitting upright again. Her heart pounded against her ribcage, and she fought to keep her breathing even.

Kanji—also having dozed off—didn’t wake up, instead leaning forward, arms instinctively settling on his legs. He bowed his head slightly in slumber. He grumbled something incoherent.

“Good morning,” a voice chuckled from her other side.

_Naoki-kun._ She turned to face him.

“What?” She blinked. “I seem to have fallen asleep.” She tried to regain her cool composure. “I apologize.”

Naoki chuckled again. “It’s all right.” He kept his eyes on the movie, taking a long sip of root beer. “It’s been a long week, as you’ve said. Besides,” he took a bit of popcorn, looking at her from the corner of his eye, “it was cute.”

_Cute_? The word echoed.

“Detectives are never _cute_ ,” she insisted, glaring at him.

“Right.” Naoki tossed a piece of popcorn over her, hitting Kanji in the head. “Wake up, Kanji. Your snoring is obnoxious.”

Kanji grumbled, slowly waking up.

“Whadaya talkin’ ‘bout?” He asked with a yawn. “I don’ snore.”

“The camping trip says otherwise.”

“Thought we agreed to never talk ‘bout the camping trip, ever again.” Kanji rubbed his forehead with one hand. “How long was I out?”

“Most of the movie,” Naoki said with another chuckle.

“Damn it,” Kanji breathed. “Sorry.”

Naoki simply smiled and took another sip.

“You ‘kay, Naoto?” Kanji looked at her, their gazes locking.

The heat returned to her face.

She stood up sharply, every muscle in her body tensing.

“F-fine!” She stammered. “I… I need a minute.” She staggered out of the living room.

“Did I miss somethin’?” She heard Kanji ask just before she was out of earshot.

She went into the small washroom near the stairs. She closed the door behind her, turning on the sink. She took off her hat. She cupped cold water in her hands, splashing her face several times.

She dried off with the nearby towel.

_What on earth was that?_

She looked at herself in the mirror.

_I do not get… flustered._ She steeled her gaze. _Naoto Shirogane does not act like a… flittering schoolgirl._

_Especially not due to someone such as_ Kanji Tatsumi.

She scoffed at herself.

_This is absolutely preposterous. I’m not Rise-san; I do not get…_ confounded _by anyone, male_ or _female._

_I am a detective. Professional. Collected. Busy._

_I do not have time for such… frivolity._

She replaced her hat.

_Especially not with Kanji-kun_.

She pulled down on the brim

_Absolutely ludicrous._

_...Right?_

She took a deep breath, before leaving the washroom.

On her way back to the living room, she could hear Naoki’s voice. Even before she reentered the room, she could tell that he was on a phone call.

“I don’t know.” He was leaning against the window. His cell was pinned to his ear by his shoulder. He was gazing out into the early evening. “A couple of hours, maybe. But, I—okay.” He gave a deep, though silent, breath. “I understand. Yeah. They will, too. Yes, Mom. Be there soon.” He hung up. Naoki rubbed at his temples with one hand.

“Your folks need ya back home?” Kanji stared at the can of soda in his hands.

“Yeah,” Naoki said with a sigh. “Someone came in, extremely drunk already, and knocked over a display.” He gave another sigh. “Glass bottles, too. It’s a huge mess. They need my help cleaning up.”

“No worries,” Kanji said. “If ya gotta jet, ya gotta jet. Right, Naoto?”

“Y-yes.” Naoto adjusted her hat. “I certainly would never begrudge you for… for familial obligations.”

Naoki blinked at her, before smiling.

“I appreciate that.”

“What happened with the drunk guy?” Kanji asked.

“Apparently,” Naoki said, “Shiroku-san was at the store for her usual pickup at the time. She had another woman with her, a tough-looking one. _She_ managed to get the drunk guy under control, until the police arrived.”

_A tough-looking woman_ , Naoto exchanged a look with Kanji. _I didn’t expect her pursue the employment opportunity at this point. Perhaps she’s recovered from her…. Well, perhaps she’s recovered more than I suspected._

_Or, perhaps, Akira-san is simply restless from spending multiple days in a row trapped in my small apartment._

“So, uh,” Naoki said, grabbing his bag, “I’ll see you guys on Monday.” He started towards the door.

“Hey,” Kanji stood up, “what about your—?”

“You can borrow it a while longer,” Naoki said, slipping on his shoes. “Besides, you guys missed half of it. Go ahead and start over if you want; no need to call it quits just because I have to.”

_What?_ The words didn’t seem to register properly in Naoto’s mind.

“Good night, guys!” Naoki gave a half-wave as he left through the store.

Naoto and Kanji both blinked, staring at the now-empty space. They slowly turned and looked at each other, before sharply looking away.

“So, uh,” Kanji started with a cough.

“I should probably head home, myself.” Naoto adjusted her hat.

“Ya don’ have to if ya don’ wan’ to, yet.” Kanji was staring out the window. “I—I mean, uh, I ain’t throwin’ you out, or… or anything.”

Naoto opened her mouth, but couldn’t say anything.

What did she even want to say?

She wasn’t really looking forward to going home alone—whether Akira was home or not, she would be spending the rest of the evening by herself—but…

_But, what?_ The voice asked. _Do you_ not _enjoy spending time with Kanji-kun_?

_Of course I enjoy our leisure time together,_ she retorted. _Kanji-kun is a friend._

_If their places were reversed,_ the voice continued, _would you even be questioning your actions? If it were Kanji-kun who had left you alone with Naoki-kun at his house, would there even be vacillation on your part?_

Naoto blinked.

“Naoto?” Kanji was looking at her, concern clear on his face.

She looked away, but didn’t say anything. She walked back to the couch, and sat down at the end opposite her friend.

 

…

…

 

Naoto stood at the bus stop, looking up at the night sky.

It was going to rain. Again.

And she didn’t have an umbrella.

_Well, at least the buses are always punctual,_ she mused. _Furthermore, this bus runs right to—_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a raindrop on her cheek.

Naoto scowled.

She looked at the sidewalk, pulling down on the brim of her hat. There was no real solution to the situation; the bus would arrive sooner than it would take for her to return to the textile shop and request the temporary use of an umbrella.

She also had little desire to be under the gaze of Mrs. Tatsumi  _again_ tonight. For some reason, which Naoto could not deduce with any level of logical thinking, the warm smile that the amicable woman had given the young detective when she’d entered the living room after closing up shop had made her lungs freeze.

Once again, Naoto found herself wishing that it was later in the year, so that she’d have had an excuse to have a coat with her. While her blue shirt had longer sleeves than that of the school’s summer uniform, it did little to better keep the chill off of her skin.

She fiddled with the strap of her messenger bag. She gave a cough, the minuscule action causing her whole frame to shake.

Something abruptly sheltered her from the rain. She looked up to see an umbrella being held up over her.

_Did he_ really—? She turned to face her benefactor.

Instead of a tall boy, Naoto found herself next to a teenage girl, not much taller than herself, clad in a green athletic jacket.

“Good evening, Chie-senpai.” Naoto gave the third-year a genuine, if startled, smile.

“Hey, Naoto-kun,” she said cheerfully. “You looked cold.”

Naoto blinked at her.

“Did you have business in the shopping district?” Naoto asked, shuffling her feet slightly and looking back at the sidewalk.  

“Huh?” Chie sounded confused. “Uh, I…. Uh, yeah.” Naoto glanced up at her senpai, the older girl looking pointedly away. “I kinda wish that the rain had started sooner; I could’ve gotten the beef bowl from Aiya earlier.” She grinned. “I’ll beat it, yet!”

Naoto thought quickly.

“I see,” she kept her voice level. “So, I presume your evening was a disappointment overall?”

“What?” Chie looked at her. “What do you mean?” She coughed once. “No, it was… fine.”

Naoto couldn’t resist a minute smile.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“…Are we talking about the same thing?” Chie hesitated.

Naoto was spared a response by the sight of a familiar scooter speeding past.

“Was that Aika?” Chie asked. “I didn’t know that they made deliveries this late.”

“Doesn’t she also occasionally assist Yukiko-senpai at the Amagi Inn?” Naoto asked.

“Oh. Yeah.” Chie blinked. “I totally forgot. She’s practically everywhere, huh?”

“That is a physical impossibility, senpai.”

Chie looked at her.

“I can’t tell if you’re serious, or…”

“Hey!” A new voice caused them to both turn to face the figure sprinting towards them in the rain.

“Akira-san!” Chie greeted the taller woman brightly.

Akira was dressed in a smarter manner than usual, wearing a pair of khaki slacks, a long-sleeved white shirt, and a dark purple sweater vest. She was also wearing a pair of dark brown loafers, which seemed to be the slightest bit too large, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. Her shades were held firmly in one hand. They made room under the umbrella, despite how minuscule it really ended up being, allowing her to lean her head out of the rain.

“What’s up, guys?”

“I didn’t know Naoto let you out, Akira-san,” Chie said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well,” the taller woman said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of her neck. “I kinda got… restless. Figured I’d check out that store you mentioned. The keeper started talking to me, and mentioned that she was looking for help, like you said. She asked me to help her with an errand, and—uh,” she looked briefly at Naoto, “I guess she was impressed, or something. I didn’t even show any ability to mix drinks, and she already wanted to hire me to help with her pub.”

_If Naoki-kun’s story was really about her_ , Naoto mused, _then it’s likely that she’s at least interested in her for her… physical prowess._ She smiled. _Good. That’ll give her an outlet for any… aggressive tendencies her recovered memories might have instilled in her._

“So, you got the job?” Chie asked.

“Y-yeah. I start Monday.” She looked at Naoto. “I-if that’s all right, I mean.”

“I have no objections,” Naoto said. “You do have the spare key to the apartment, yes?”

Akira pulled a small keychain out of her pocket.

“I was homeless, not brainless,” Akira chuckled. “I know better than to leave places unlocked.”

“You smell like bad wine,” Chie noted out loud. “I thought you said that you didn’t mix any drinks for Shiroku-san tonight.”

“Uh, I didn’t,” Akira backed away slightly, standing back in the rain again. “That, uh, errand I mentioned? We were picking up her usual order from the local liquor store. And, uh, some drunk guy fell into a display, and knocked bottles of wine everywhere. A few broke, and he nearly hit the lady owner. I, uh, pinned him down—harmlessly, like a retriever with a bird, mind—but I got some of the wine on me. Spent the better part of an hour scrubbing the damn stuff out of this vest.” She coughed. “I’d hoped I got rid of the smell, too. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize!” Chie shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You were just helping out!”

Naoto blinked at her, but said nothing. Now that Chie mentioned it, she could make out the barest scent of alcoholic beverages. She found it rather unappealing, to say the least, but couldn’t fault the woman for it.

Though, she did find herself wishing she could replace the smell with that of fabric softener and…and…?

_And—_ what?

Naoto felt heat spread across her face, and the rest of her suddenly felt very cold.

“You okay, Naoto?” Chie asked.

Naoto was spared an explanation by the bus arriving and pulling up to the stop.

Naoto said nothing as she boarded, the older girls not far behind.

They spent the ride in relative silence, Chie exiting several minutes before the others. She gave them a polite nod, before disappearing into the night.

Naoto felt disorientated—a fact that probably should have concerned her even more than it did—and was barely aware as she and her new roommate made their way back home.

Dinner was silent, as well. And store-bought—perhaps she should take Akira up on the offer to cook meals, assuming she was better at the task than her senpai were. Either way, she ended up retiring to bed much earlier than she had planned.

Even still, Naoto found the blankets were colder than usual that night, no matter how tightly she held them against herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect to get the response I have so far for this fic. A massive thank you for those who have read, bookmarked, commented and/or left kudos. I'm glad to know that there are readers who are liking this story, and I hope you continue to enjoy the ride.


	8. Resurgence

_Foolish as it is, I’m relying on you. Do not let me down._

Naoto had thought those words, while walking away from the teenagers gathered under the gazebo. They had _something_ to do with the murders, with how several of those who had disappeared had returned alive.

They were proof that it wasn’t over.  Naoto just needed their help in uncovering some conclusive evidence for it.

Naoto had expected to be the next person kidnapped. Had planned on it, set up the opportunity as bait. She—he—was right, too, as she had been concerning the case from the moment she’d been brought on, and had briefly investigated the Tatsumi boy and his mother on their potential connection to the first murder victim.

Except Naoto hadn’t planned on being dumped in a strange place. It resembled the base of a villain from a tokusatsu television series, like Featherman—not that Naoto was that familiar with the genre in general—or that series in particular. That would be absurd.

But, where was this place? What was it? And why was she here?

_He?_

A soft sound caused Naoto’s lungs to freeze. She turned, dreading to see the source, somehow already knowing…

A child, their tiny frame made to appear even smaller by the oversized white shirt—a lab coat?—that nearly obscured their entire body, was seated on the floor in a fetal position, back against a raised table—an operating table. Their face was hidden by the white sleeves, buried in their arms as their body shook with each sob. But, Naoto couldn’t deny the familiarity of the hat covering the top of their head.

Her hat.

Naoto instantly reached for the top of her head. His head. Whatever. There was still a hat there. So…

So…what was this person, and why did they have a duplicate hat?

Why did their sobs sound like… like _hers?_

_I do not cry. Particularly not in such an… infantile manner._

_Not anymore._

“Who are you?” Naoto asked.

“Please, no,” the figure—the child—sobbed, ignoring or not hearing the question. “Please, don’t. Don’t leave me. Alone.”

Naoto froze. She knew those words. The ones that still haunted every nightmare.

The ones she refused to acknowledge still occurred.

Contempt filled her chest, and she glared at the child on the floor.

His chest.

Naoto opened her mouth to speak—to scold—but before she could form a single word, deafening sirens went off, red lights flashing and nearly blinding her.

“UNKNOWN INTRUDER DETECTED INSIDE FACILITY…” A loud, mechanical voice sounded, echoing as the sirens and lights faded.

The child looked up—it had her face— _her face—_ eyes wide in horror, cheeks stained with the streams of tears.

“THREAT LEVEL: YELLOW.”

The child stood up, running past Naoto and to the control panel against the far wall. It fiddled with several buttons and levers, apparently knowing what—

“DEPLOYING GUARDS INSIDE THE FACILITY.”

“No, no, no, nononononono.” The child sobbed to itself. “No, they can’t… can’t see.”

_Wait._ Naoto’s mind raced. _Intruders? Does that mean…?_

“No, keep them away. They can’t…”

“They can’t _what_?” Naoto asked, glaring at this child who _dared_ to wear her face.

_His face._

“No,” the child still didn’t seem to hear her. Or him. Or whatever. “No, I can’t let them in. Can’t let them see. Let them know.”

“Speak properly!” Naoto snapped, frustrated. When the child didn’t respond—again, she forced her breath to even out. Naoto recomposed herself, forcing herself back into the practiced posture, making herself appear taller, broader, despite how fake it felt.

How fake she felt.

_He?_

“INTRUDER DETECTED WITHIN THE RESEARCH AREA. ELIMINATION PROCEEDING.”

“Stop them!” The child hit a large button with a fist. “Can’t. Can’t let them in. Can’t let them leave.”

_What?_

“Why did they leave?”

_Stop it_ , Naoto struggled to keep calm.

A long silence passed. Naoto listened to the sound of her own breath—his own breath, she corrected herself, despite how hollow it sounded, even now—especially now.

The child eventually gasped, the sound choked by another wave of sobs. It slowly staggered backwards.

“No…”

It stumbled, falling backwards to the ground.

“UNKNOWN INTRUDERS HAVE ENTERED CLASSIFIED SECTOR TWO…. THREAT LEVEL: RED. DEPLOYING INCREASED GUARDS WITHIN THE FACILITY.”

“No, no, nonononono, nooo…” It turned away from the console, towards Naoto again, grasping at its head with both hands. “No. Please.”

“Crying is not going to solve anything,” Naoto scoffed. “Why don’t you actually _talk_ to me, and try to _accomplish_ something?”

“No… they’re coming. They’ll see. They’ll know. They’ll leave.” The child sobbed.

The series of televisions that filled the entirety of the wall opposite the large, mechanical door lit up all at once. Their screens filled with static, briefly, before they displayed a very familiar group of teenagers, all brandishing some sort of weapon.

“Ah, it’s about time you arrived,” Naoto turned back towards the child. She sighed. “I was getting tired of waiting for you.” She kept her voice—his voice, _his_ —level.

“Naoto!” She recognized Tatsumi’s voice. He certainly didn’t sound angry. So, they could see her, too. Him. They could see _him_.

They could _see_ ….

_They…can’t…._ Naoto fought the thought.

“I’ve had about all I can take of dealing with this ridiculous, blubbering child.”

“No, no please!” It sobbed, its voice even higher, almost electronic. “Don’t go!” Its voice cracked on the last word.

“ _That’s_ Naoto’s Shadow?” Hanamura’s voice betrayed his disbelief.

“Seems like a scared little kid,” Tatsumi said simply.

_Say it_ , Naoto’s mouth turned bitter. _Say it! It_ looks _like a scared little_ girl.

Naoto was _not_ dealing with this. Not with a bunch of children.

They could never understand.

How could they?

“Trying to speak with you is useless,” Naoto said to the child, “and exhausting.” She turned, starting to walk away. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?” The child sniveled, causing Naoto to stop. “Why are you leaving me here? Why do people always leave me? Why am I always left alone? I’m gonna be alone forever. I don’t wanna be alone.”

“Naoto-kun…” She heard Amagi say. Her voice was filled with pity.

Naoto scowled, stomach churning. How dare this… this child… suggest that she…?

That he _._ _He._

She couldn’t be female. Not… not in front of….

They would leave.

“You know what it’s like,” the child continued crying. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“We may share the same face,” Naoto glanced back at it, “but it’s ludicrous to imply that we have _anything_ else in common.” She felt the acidic emotions build, forcing them back down. “As long as you continue to act like a child, I will _never_ be able to relate to you.”

The sobbing stopped.

The child—the Shadow—gave a dark chuckle. The sudden change made Naoto’s spine stiffen.

“Who are you trying to fool?” The voice suddenly aged, actually sounding like a teenager, despite the strange, layered, higher-pitched echo. A teenage _girl’s_ voice, Naoto realized, fear piercing her stomach.

His?

“Why delude yourself?” The Shadow glanced up at her. “You know the truth.” The lamps near the operating table turned on, illuminating the Shadow’s face. The tears were gone, its expression one of utter condescension, the eyes a piercing yellow. “You know it well.” It looked up at her directly. “I _am_ you.”

Naoto half turned towards it, her breath catching in her lungs.

_No. No, it couldn’t—!_

“I’m not _acting_ like anything; these childish gestures are no mere affectation. This _is_ the real you.”

_No!_ Naoto turned the rest of the way to face the Shadow, gaping at it.

Naoto could hear the others talking—shouting—to each other. Or maybe to her. She couldn’t make out much.

Just Tatsumi’s voice. One sentence.

“We had to go through this, too.”

Naoto scowled.

_I really doubt that._

_None of you are living this… falsehood._

More lamps turned on, this time causing the duplicate’s hat to cast its face in shadow.

“You’ve heard what all those fools say,” the Shadow sneered at her. “You’re just a little kid, a little stupid _child_. ‘Keep out of our business,’ right?”

Naoto heard gears turn. The floor shook, before it began to rise. A platform. Her, the Shadow, the operating table—why was there an operating table?—they were all on a platform, rising above the rest of the room.

She took a step back from the Shadow. No. She didn’t want to deal with this. Not now. Not ever. Why…? 

“No one cares about you,” the Shadow continued. “It doesn’t matter how many cases you spend all those hours cogitating over. You’re nothing to them, a mere child. All they’re interested in is your ability to solve puzzles. Once they’re done with you, then it’s right back to the playpen.” It slowly stood up, leaning over at her in an awkward stance. Despite this, it still manage to someone look down its nose at her. Him? Everything about this… thing felt wrong. “When they need you, they’re nice, and when they’re done, they’re not; that’s difficult for you to take. You haven’t the means to deal with this two-faced nature…” It scoffed, startling her. Naoto started to take a step back, her composure crumbling. “It makes you a lonely child.”

Naoto gasped, staring at the ground.

_What? No. No, it wasn’t…_

“Naoto…” She heard Hanamura’s voice from the security screens.

“I wanna be a grown-up,” the Shadow feigned a tantrum. “I wanna be a big boy right now…” It gave another deep laugh, before recomposing its dark tone. “Yes. I’m finally ready to grow up and be a man for once.”

_Stop. Stop!_

“I want people to finally see me for who I really am!” It glared right at her, eyes locked. “I want… a reason to stay alive!”

Naoto broke, falling to her knees, her hands keeping her from collapsing completely.

“S-stop it,” Naoto could feel her voice strain, slipping. She choked back the pain. “I… can find my own reasons for living.” She had to force her voice even harder now. 

“No, you can’t,” the Shadow said with a short laugh. “It’s impossible. Unless you can change the essential truth about the person you are: a child.”

As if on cue, Naoto clasped her ears with both hands.

“Stop s-saying that…”

The Shadow looked down at her, hand on waist in a perfect imitation of her practiced pose. Her emulation of masculinity. It smirked down at her; it was _enjoying_ mocking her every thought, emotion, and action, past and present.

“Remember all those handsome, strong men who populate detective novels? At your core, you’ve always wanted to be just like them, emulating their every trait, didn’t you? But, in your vain attempts, you knew… that you never could, that you’ll always be a child. Admit it, and that there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“T-that’s not true!” Why couldn’t she block this _thing_ out?

 “It seems we’re ready for the alteration. You have no objections, of course.” It laughed. “Naoto Shirogane. It’s such a rugged, masculine name you’ve got.”

Naoto stood up with a sharp inhale.

_No! No, don’t do this! I need this!_

“But—!”

“Shut up!” Naoto snapped, all composure gone, not even able to focus on her voice.

_I can’t—!_

“A name still doesn’t change the truth.”

Naoto leapt at the Shadow, grabbing it by the collar of its lab coat.

“Stop it!” _I need this lie! Shut up! I need the lie!_

“The gender barrier is so difficult, isn’t it? Overcoming it is daunting….”

“…What?” She heard Narukami breathe in revelation.

_No…_

“That’s why you tried _so hard_ to be this _cool, powerful_ _man_. But that would be rather difficult, since _you aren’t even a_ _guy!_ ”

Naoto froze.

She heard the surprise from the others. She couldn’t make them un-hear what they heard.

That he— _she_ —had been a lie.

“Whoa, what?” Hanamura breathed. “Did he…? Did I hear that right, or did things just get wacky in my head?”

“S-so, h-he…?” Tatsumi was dumbfounded. “That dude isn’t… a dude?”

No, she wasn’t.

She was just a scared little girl, pretending to be a man, faking something she wasn’t—never had been, never would be—in order to be able to be what she desperately wanted.

She was fake. A lie.

A hypocrite.

The scene blurred.

_What?_

The mechanical base melted around her.

Where… was she in the school, now? The shoe lockers rose from the ground. What was happening?

She looked at the Shadow, her hands still grasping its collar.

It wasn’t the Shadow, anymore.

“Yeah, but you ain’t much of a chick, are ya?”

Naoto snapped awake.

She was in bed.

The incident with her Shadow had happened a year ago.

It had just been a nightmare.

She forced herself to remain calm, to think and rationalize her situation.

Her kidnapping—and subsequent rescue—had been the _previous_ September. September 2011. It was 2012, now. Sunday, September 9th, 2012, to be exact.

Naoto pushed herself up, lifting her torso off of the bed. Several blankets were draped over her, each a different shade of blue. She shrugged them off.

It was cold. She was always cold. The approaching winter filled her with equal parts elation and anguish. Winter brought its own type of peace, a crisp serenity that matched the snow that would blanket the town and surrounding countryside. It also brought a deep chill, one that always set in her bones. It was rather difficult to maintain composure when one’s frame trembled.

Naoto also simply hated feeling cold.

She looked at the alarm clock on her bedside table.

_Six-thirty_ , she thought with a long sigh. _Sunday morning, and I still wake up at six-thirty._

She dragged herself out of bed and lumbered towards the bathroom. A shower typically succeeded in washing the frigidity off. Even still, she dreaded the brief moments between removing her pajamas and the heat of the water beating down against her skin.

Today, however, the torrent did little to rinse the lingering feelings. She leaned forward against the wall of the shower, the water against her back. For neither the first or last time, she wished that her apartment had a traditional, Japanese-style bathroom with a furo, instead of a Western-style one. She hadn’t enjoyed a proper bath since the last time she’d had to travel for a case. The bathroom was the cost of the smaller apartment; she hadn’t needed the extra room before, living on her own. Now, she _could_ use the extra space, but Naoto knew it would be counterproductive to draw attention to the fact that she had acquired a roommate. It was the price she paid for her frugality, her privacy, and her ability to efficiently perform at her job.

The nightmare continued to drift in the back of her mind.

She had been wrong, of course.

The rest of the Team _had_ gone through similar confrontations with their own Shadows. Naoto had expected, from her initial investigations before joining the Team, and from her early interactions shortly thereafter, that she would most relate to Chie’s experience, or perhaps Yu’s.

She hadn’t expected the person’s whose experience she’d connected to most, whose Shadows had dealt with many of the same fundamentals as hers, to be _Kanji Tatsumi_.

And, yet….

She turned off the shower, quickly wrapping herself in a towel in a vain attempt to hold the water’s residual warmth against herself.

It was ultimately the most logical conclusion. While everyone in the Team struggled with a fear of loneliness in some manner or another, they were the two who directly dealt with the fear of rejection by others, especially their peers: her, the law enforcement community, him, the other children his age.

Their secondary issues had arisen from this insecurity, and even those were fundamentally the same. They both struggled with how their interests and passions conflicted with society’s expectations, based on their biological sex. They’d both forged a façade in response, and drove people away to prevent discovery.

The difference was, he’d attempted to change who he was in order to fit the gender roles forced upon him; she’d hid her gender in order to fit into the professional world she so desperately wanted to belong in.

It was childish. That was ultimately her deepest issue. She grew up alone, with only her grandfather and Yakushiji as constants in her life. No friends, no peers, not even a mentor beyond those two individuals. That, combined with her prioritization of her career over every other aspect of life—and her validation in said career—resulted in her being willing to sacrifice everything else in its pursuit—including her own identity beyond that single element. To be frank, it had also left her socially stunted; even now, she constantly missed proper cues, failing to catch on the subtleties of interacting with others her own age.

_Like last night._ Naoto frowned, drying off. She should have known that she wasn’t expected to leave early, that her company was still desired. But, the efforts of a single year could never replace the education of sixteen.

She looked at the floor.

She was likely being too critical of herself. It was unreasonable to expect herself to be socially proficient so quickly. The others had been more than understanding, especially in the beginning.

No, she was being ridiculous. It was difficult enough to come to terms with her identity as a whole. To assume that she would instantly be able to integrate into a social circle without any sort of hindrance or complications from her end was….

Well, it was childish.

It had been… odd, to say the least, when she’d stopped hiding behind her male façade. She had spent four years trying to wear it, like an ill-fitting mask. The coats that she had to have altered, even from the smallest available size; the trousers that were always too long, even when tailored; the boxers that always felt too loose; it had been like she was trying to wear someone else’s skin over hers. It had honestly been a relief to not have to guard herself with every action, to always watch every position she held herself in, the tone of every word she spoke.

However, the feelings on inadequacies remained.

She was a woman.

The words themselves didn’t sound wrong. Especially not now. She looked at her body, still wrapped in the damp towel. It didn’t terrify her, undeniable proof of the falsehood she once paraded around. It was her, a part of her, and it was something she’d learned to accept.

She just… wasn’t sure how to advance from there. Growth required steps, and she had no clue what the next one was. Was there one?

She was a woman.

She just wasn’t altogether certain what that meant. Beyond the basic physical criteria, and baseline personal identity, of course.

Naoto looked in the mirror.

Blue-grey eyes looked back at her. Behind her reflection, she could just barely make out the fuzzy, transparent image of a helmeted figure in a white military coat.

_Yamato-Takeru_ , she recognized her current Persona, just before he faded out of view again.

Was that her own subconscious self’s way of telling her that _that_ was the next step?

Society certainly had its own views on what it meant to be a man or woman, but….

But, what? Naoto sighed lightly, returning to her room and picking out her clothes for the day, including black trousers and a dark blue buttoned shirt of mildly heavier material than her usual choices for early September.

Going against society wasn’t easy, to put it in mild terms.

After dressing, she stared at her hat, resting on her nightstand. She walked towards it, gingerly picking it up. She massaged it gently in her hands, leaving her room and walking towards the kitchen. She stopped just outside the office. She slipped her hat on, before slowly opening the door and peering inside.

Naoto had to hold back a laugh.

Akira was still fast asleep—unlike Naoto, the young woman was a heavy sleeper—curled up in a ball on the futon, clad in a pair of slightly oversized, lavender pajamas, her hair a ruffled mess. She was gripping her leg in an admittedly painful-looking pose, in a manner reminiscent of a child holding a beloved toy. _Or a dog trying to hold a bone,_ the canine-based metaphor came unwilling to her mind, likely due to the older woman’s frequent usage of them.

The woman also snored. Not loudly, but enough that it was impossible to ignore if one was in the same room.

_Another reason that it’s best she sleep in the office, as opposed to on the couch_ , Naoto gently closed the door again. _Though, it_ does _limit my own usage of its space._ She preferred to do school and casework at her desk; she was a creature of habit.

It _was_ early, however, and she had all day to focus on her homework. She decided a brief walk would be a pleasant enough manner to pass some time for her temporary roommate to wake up.

If nothing else, she decided while slipping on a pair of low-rise boots, it would clear her head and help drive the nightmare from her thoughts. 

It was, she discovered the moment she opened the door, much colder out than she’d expected. She quickly stepped back inside to grab a black, single-breasted coat.

The low light of the crisp morning made Naoto think briefly of the fog that had plagued the Inaba region the year before. By December, it had become so deep—and perpetual—that the entire town had been stuck in the same low-visibility that heralded the early morning. Before the Inaba murders, Naoto had had a certain fondness for fog. It brought an air of mystery to even the most familiar places; one could never be sure what one would discover, just beyond their range of visibility.

Naoto gave a soft, dry laugh as she continued down the sidewalk.

_I’m being… melodramatic,_ she scolded herself. _It is a pleasant enough morning, though._ She wrapped her arms closer against herself. _Aside from the cold._

It was unseasonably cold, even for early morning. Naoto suspected that it would be an unusually harsh winter this year.

_I’m going to need a heavier coat,_  she thought, _and warmer bedding, as well._

She frowned, stopping. Her path had led her to the edge of the Samegawa Flood Plain.

This had been one of the initial places she’d monitored, back when she’d first arrived in Inaba. She’d discovered that this area, Junes, and—to a lesser extent—the Central Shopping District were all the most frequented public places by the town’s general population.

She turned back, walking through a neighborhood of houses, all white or light grey. She found herself stopping again.

She’d been down this street before. Once.

_I… I want to see you again!_

Naoto hadn’t understood—to be honest, she still didn’t. She hadn’t been much of anyone back then. Naoto Shirogane, the detective. The Detective Prince. That was the general summation of who she had been. There had been little else to her identity; she’d pushed or locked away every other personality trait. She’d only been here to catch a killer—to solve the case—and to do so on her own. There had been absolutely no reason for anyone to actually desire her company. Especially not someone she’d been interrogating.

Right?

_You seem to be a rather odd person_ , she had blurted out in response, before she’d recomposed herself.

Naoto scoffed at her past actions.

She’d been foolish, in more ways than one. She was more than she’d thought she was. The detective was only a part of herself. So was the woman. The child.

Fragments. These were fragments of her identity.

Yet, they didn’t seem to fit together in a proper, cohesive manner. There were still elements missing, things that didn’t make sense.

_Change doesn’t happen overnight_ , she reminded herself, turning and starting to walk again, back towards her apartment. _It’s a continuous process. The others all have struggled with their own changes. I’m not alone in this._

_I’m not alone_ , repeating the words brought… a sort of peace. Comfort.

It was childish.

_And_ , she dared to admit, _that’s okay_.

 

…

…

 

Naoto returned to her apartment to find Akira in the drawing room. The older woman stood in a familiar combat stance—reminiscent of the ones Chie typically utilized—making light, boxing jabs at the air in front of her. She was still in her pajamas. She turned and looked at Naoto, surprise clear on her face.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you were awake.”

“I woke earlier than intended,” Naoto said. “So, I took a… brief stroll.” She noted an aroma drifting from the direction of the kitchen. “You have been cooking.” Not a question. She wasn’t confirming the point, but seeking further detail.

“Y-yeah.” Akira straightened her posture, scratching at the back of her neck. She avoided the younger girl’s gaze. “I, uh, made some rice. A-and eggs.” She coughed once. “There’s more than plenty, if you’d like some.” She chuckled nervously. “It _is_ your food, after all.”

“Eggs?” Naoto looked at her.

“Uh, yeah.” Akira followed her as Naoto walked to the kitchen. “They’re, uh, scrambled. I tried to fry them, but…. Well, I guess it’s been longer than I thought since the last time I cooked eggs. Or, much of anything that wasn’t cooked in a saucepot. Sorry.”

“There’s no need for apology.” Naoto pulled out a pair of bowls. She handed one to the woman, continuing to speak as they filled them with the food from the pan and rice cooker. “I am… not exactly a culinary expert, myself. What I make is edible,” she recalled the more questionable results of the other girls in the Team’s cooking, “but it… lacks creativity or….” She cleared her throat, leading Akira to the dining room. “Either way, I appreciate the assistance.”

Naoto handed her a pair of chopsticks. She took them, staring blankly at the utensils for a long moment.

“Is something the matter?” Naoto asked. It was a similar expression to the one that usually accompanied the young woman sorting through another memory.

“I… don’t know how to use chopsticks.” Akira twitched slightly in her seat. Her obvious discomfort with her ignorance made the young detective recall a case her grandfather had brought her on, in England. She’d been caught more than a little off-guard but a few of the customs, too. Akira was in a similar situation.

In fact, Naoto realized, the young fighter had a lot more in common with her than she’d initially thought.

Both of them were caught in a sea of continuous transition.

Naoto looked at her bowl for a moment. For a moment, the bowl of rice and eggs was replaced in her mind’s eye with a much larger bowl of beef strips.

_Life is a series of major events,_ a familiar voice echoed.

_This will get sorted out,_ Naoto decided. _I’ll decipher the missing pieces later. For now, I’ll take this one step, one event at a time._

Naoto raised her own pair of chopsticks.

“It can take a while to get used to,” she started, “but the proper use of chopsticks is actually quite simple in concept.” She placed one on the table, against its rest, bringing the other to its proper position under her dominant thumb. “The first chopstick remains stationary, and is secured….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write in a lot of ways. Dealing with gender issues, even with a cis identity, is never easy. Neither is dealing with a character trying to force themselves to be someone or something they're not, or they don't identify with. It's also really hard to accomplish in terms of a culture different from your own (basically, I'm Western, but these characters live in Japan and have a different set of cultural and societal norms than I'm used to). Essentially, I'm just putting that out there as a disclaimer. No matter how much research I do, my point of view will always be shaded by the culture I was raised in. So, if there's any inconsistencies, an inaccuracy, or some element I don't understand or execute properly--first, I apologize, and second, please (calmly) let me know and explain. Not only would I like to fix my errors, I also genuinely like to learn and understand perspectives other than my own. 
> 
> (Combining anime and game dialogue is weird; I give myself the strangest goals.)


	9. Borrowed Time

Something Naoto hadn’t known until she’d started regularly attending school—instead of using tutors between cases—was how its monotony caused one’s days to blend together. While she’d long lived her life under a relatively consistent schedule, it hadn’t the level of externally-forced structure that it did from her first day at Yasogami.

Before, she could separate segments of her life in her memory, even if minimally, marking them by various criteria: the case she was working on, the town or city she was in to work it, even the time she’d caught a suspect of serial arson, single-handed.

Now, however, days at a time became lost under the sea of mathematic equations, biological terminology, historical names and dates, lines of prose, and various other elements of standard curriculum. In fact, it wasn’t until her phone’s ringtone sounded during a study session with several other second-years at the Junes food court that she even realized that it was already Thursday.

_New email_ , the words didn’t register right away. The sender’s name, however, did.

_Mitsuru Kirijo._

Naoto stared. Had she discovered any new information on—?

“Naoto-kun?” Naoki’s voice broke through her thoughts, making her look up at the others.

“Everything cool?” Kanji blinked at her, hand halfway to his mouth with an animal cracker.

“Everything’s fine,” Naoto said calmly. “It’s just an email about a case. I’ll attend to it later.” She coughed once. “Where were we?”

“The third exponential function,” Ayane spoke up for the first time all day. The second-year girl was in the same class as the other three, but sat in the far back and hardly spoke to anyone. She had apparently been even more withdrawn the previous year, but had opened up somewhat shortly before spring.

_Probably Yu-senpai’s influence,_ Naoto noted to herself as she helped walk the others through the mathematic problem. _He certainly appeared to be assisting everyone he possibly could, spending every spare moment on others. It’s a wonder he managed to be the top student in his year on exams._

Mid-way through the summer, though, the small second-year—Ayane was one of the few students in their year who was visibly shorter than Naoto, regardless of shoes worn—had started joining them on larger group outings. It was typically only when there around five or more others in their year around, and typically related to schoolwork in some manner, but she joined in all the same.

Though, Naoto suspected, that might have more to do with—

“I give up!” Kanji lay his head down on top of his notebook. “I’m never gonna get this. Wha’s the point? I don’ need to know these functions or whatever to run the shop, anyway.”

“I can’t comment on the value of algebra or trigonometry in the terms of operating a textile shop,” Naoto said, not looking up from her own homework. “However, you certainly _are_ capable of mastering these concepts and executing them.”

Kanji scoffed, but said nothing.

Maybe she wasn’t explaining it properly?

Naoki and Ayane seemed to grasp the basic concepts, at least after a second explanation, but Kanji appeared to struggle more in the math and science fields. History, she found, he understood well enough, even if he occasionally mixed up dates, periods and names.

It was actually somewhat odd. When it came to his work—knitting dolls and animals or working on clothes for the shop—Kanji had a rather sharp eye for detail. His mother had once shown her a kimono he’d made, entirely unaided. The obvious attention given to every stitch was impressive, even to someone who had no knowledge of the craft. And, of course, the knitted animals were already popular with the local children, praised by several parents as being of higher quality than any mass-manufactured toy.

Yet, beyond his craft, Kanji didn’t seem to be as focused on the individual detail. He seemed to prefer to take a step back from the situation and observe the larger circumstances. It wasn’t a flaw, by any means—it just meant that some concepts took a little extra time or effort. Naoto was the opposite way; she could focus on each individual detail with ease—useful when scouring for evidence to solve crimes—but she still sometimes struggled with the bigger picture—which had been how it’d taken her so long to work out that the serial killer last year wasn’t just a cop, but…

Perhaps she should offer to help him privately? Attempting to readdress the subjects in front of the others didn’t seem to help his confidence. Kanji certainly was not _stupid_. In fact, his ability to see the big picture had helped to keep the Team—and her—on track more than once in the past.

Yet—

Before she could finish the thought, her phone alert sounded again.

This time it was a text message.

From Rise.

Naoto smiled, but hesitated. On one hand, she always enjoyed hearing from her fellow Teammate and friend—even though their conversations usually included Rise teasing her over some false imagining or another. On the other hand, she really ought to be focusing on her studies at the moment.

She looked at the others.

Kanji’s head was still lying on top of his textbook as he lazily ate more of his crackers. Naoki was drawing something—too abstract to make out—on his notebook, apparently no more enthralled by the equation than their friend. Ayane was also sketching in the margins of her paper, though her drawings were much easier to make out: mostly music notes, perhaps in a particular rhythm, and a few cats.

_Well,_ she thought, _if no one else has any interest in continuing at the moment, then…_. She slid her phone open, reading the message.

_Naoto~~~!_

Smiling again, she typed out a quick response.

_HELLO RISE-SAN. IS UR SHOOT OVER?_

The response, despite its length, was almost immediate.

_Yeeeaaah finally! (=_=) I <3 it but soooo tired now~ I hve soooo mch left 2 do ths wkend 2 (^_^;) Hw’s schl? _

Naoto blinked at the screen for a moment.

She must have looked confused, because Kanji sat upright, speaking again.

“Rise text you, too?” He asked.

“Yes. I presume you received a similar message?”

“Yeah.” Kanji fiddled with his pencil, staring at the table. “I just don’ usually respond right away.” He scoffed again. “I think I’d rather try to figure out math than her texts, sometimes.”

Naoto nodded.

“I got a text from her once,” Naoki said. “I’m still not sure what it said.” He paused. “I never responded, either.”

Kanji chuckled.

“I’m going to call it quits,” Naoki continued. “I just can’t focus today. Not on math, at least.” He stood up, gathering his things. “See you tomorrow.”

“Later, man.”

“Good evening, Naoki-kun.”

There was a long pause, as Ayane looked back and forth between Kanji and Naoto, before scrambling her belongings together.

“Me, too,” she said in a quiet voice before practically sprinting after Naoki.

“Do ya think she’s still scared of me?” Kanji almost sounded hurt.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Naoto said. “If she were, she likely would not spend time around you in the first place.”

He looked at her.

Perhaps she’d been too blunt?

“I apologize. I did not phrase that properly.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Kanji shrugged. “You’re right.” He coughed once. “What does Rise want?” He started to pack his things.

“Apparently, just to talk.”

She quickly replied to Rise’s text.

_WAS ATTEMPTING TO FINISH HOMEWORK. A BREAK IS ACCEPTABLE NOW._

Rise’s first reply was short.

_Oh~?_

The single word was quickly accompanied.

_Cld u tell Moronji 2 stp ignring my txts?_

Naoto felt heat rise against her cheeks.

“And,” she amended her previous statement, “to be Rise-san.”

 Kanji gave yet another scoff as she packed her own belongings.

“What else is new?” He stood up. “Though, I didn’ expect her to ever be able to get under _your_ skin tha’ way.”

Naoto stood up sharply, avoiding eye contact.

_No, and it shouldn’t. The very_ idea _is… preposterous._ Naoto glared at her phone. _As per usual, Rise-san is reading far too much into things that aren’t even…._ She recalled the camping trip. _Rise-san is utterly delusional at times._

“She… isn’t,” Naoto insisted. “She is simply… persistent.” Something that Naoto admired and was grateful for, at times. In fact, others might have given up, back when she’d been new to the Team—and to the concept of friendship. Naoto had been… abrasive then. Not intentionally, but her blunt nature and habit of keeping others at a distance—in part to keep her secret, but also to keep from being… left again—should have made dealing with her unappealing. Despite that, however, Rise had kept approaching her. Yu, too. And even Chie had kept trying. They hadn’t given up and, gradually, Naoto had warmed up to them and the others.

Kanji had stuck to it, too, in his own way. It hadn’t registered at first. In fact, it wasn’t until the skiing trip in February that she knew that he truly saw her as a friend, and not just because of her presence in the Team. Her. It had been relatively obvious that he’d cared the previous November, when he’d talked her down from her self-hate for allowing Nanako to be hurt. But, it had been too easy to label it off as one Teammate looking out for another. But, the attention—awkward as they’d both been—he’d devoted to her, to teach her a skill she had no hope at, rather than enjoy himself with the others….

She shook her head.

They were friends. They were all friends. That was what mattered.

She needed to stop analyzing and over-analyzing it.

It only led her down a… dangerous path.

Her phone buzzed again.

Clearly, Rise wasn’t patient enough to wait for her response.

_Naoto-kun stp strng @ Moronji (^_-) I knw u r_

Heat returned to Naoto’s face.

_I AM DOING NO SUCH THING._

Something occurred to her.

_I DON’T RECALL EVER STATING I WASN’T STUDYING ALONE._

“She must be,” Kanji’s voice broke through her thoughts again, “ta get ya so riled up so quick.”

Naoto looked at him.

“I am _not_ riled up.”

The words didn’t sound convincing, to either of them.

Before he could respond, Rise had.

_Suuurrrrre u rnt (^_^) Can u tll him that I get a brk @ the end of sept then? Snc he’s igrng me_

“Rise-san wishes for me to inform you that she will be returning to Inaba at the end of the month,” Naoto complied. “And that she would like for you to respond to her messages directly.”

“Yeah, well,” Kanji scowled, almost pouting, “Rise doesn’t always get what she wants.”

“I don’t even know what she wants.” Naoto hadn’t planned on saying it. She hadn’t even realized she _had_ said it until Kanji raised an eyebrow at her.

“Just _what_ is she buggin’ you about?” He asked; the question almost sounded rhetorical.

Naoto looked away sharply.

“I’m going home.” She started towards the elevator. She stopped briefly to speak. “D-don’t respond to Rise-san… not until later.”

“O-okay, sure.”

She hesitated, opening her mouth to speak. To say what, she wasn’t certain. When she couldn’t decide, she simply chose to say a hurried farewell and stiffly walked to the elevator. Alone.

 

…

…

 

News of Rise’s impending return brought a general sense of relief to the Team as a whole. Especially to Yosuke. And not, despite Kanji’s off-handed comment otherwise, because she was a very attractive and quite famous idol as well as their friend and Teammate.

Her Persona’s scanning and communication abilities would allow them to actually operate in a much safer manner, should it come to that. They just had to last a couple weeks without any Shadow-related issues. At the very least, without a fight.

Certainly, they should be able to manage that much.

Naoto had briefly considered asking Mitsuru if she could bring in someone from the Shadow Operatives with similar abilities—she recalled one such individual being able to extend her abilities into the Midnight Channel without ever passing through a television. However, something kept her from actually doing so, or bringing the idea up with the others. Pride, most likely, a thought that admittedly annoyed her. The information Mitsuru had passed along in her emails had certainly been interesting to begin with. Though, she hoped at least some of it would never be outright _useful_.

The Dark Hour had been one topic. A secret hour of sorts, hidden away at midnight each night. Electrical devices didn’t operate during it, unless equipped with a Plume of Dusk. The sky turned green, and a blood-like substance seeped through walls, ceilings, and floors. Most humans transmogrified into coffin-like objects, completely ignored by any and all Shadows that spawned. Those who didn’t either had the potential to use an Evoker and wield a Persona—without having to face their own Shadow, no less—or were usually quickly attacked. These victims usually ended up afflicted with Apathy Syndrome, trapped in a nearly vegetative state. If they were lucky. Some even ended up completely consumed, becoming a Shadow themselves.

It sounded like something from a bad horror film, Naoto decided. And, if she hadn’t experienced a twisted version of the Hour, back in May, she’d have never believed it.

Another topic had been Persona Suppressors. A medical drug, used to keep one’s Persona under control; this was typically only required by those who had forcibly or artificially awakened their Persona. However, they were highly dangerous in their own right. Using them could result in the drug becoming outright necessary to keep one’s Persona from lashing out and killing oneself—or others. It also had severe side-effects on the body; these varied somewhat from person to person, but often included a loss of regulation of one’s body temperature.

Which explained why Mitsuru had told Naoto to make sure that Akira had access to warm clothes at all times. If she _had_ been forced to take Suppressors by her captors….

Akira had also spent the days following her memory’s recovery sorting through them. She worked through many of them out loud, giving Naoto more information to pass along to the Team. The better they understood their new companion, the better they could prevent an… unintended incident.

_Particularly,_ Naoto had noted to herself, _if the drugs given to her affected her mind._ Especially _if the withdrawal resulted in her acting in a manner similar to an aggressive Shadow._

Either way, the information could have clues as to who kidnapped her, and why. So, Naoto took the effort to remember and record every piece given to her, and to relay it to the others, including Mitsuru.

Akira been a part of the fighting ring since what she assumed had been her early teens. Probably around thirteen, she’d speculated. Her and Cat had stumbled—almost literally—into the corrupt businessman who ran it, just before the onset of winter. Their desperation to get off the streets, even if in only the strictest sense, and to ease their continued survival had resulted in their instant agreement to the man’s offer. So, they’d spent the winter and following spring in training, gaining weight—mostly muscle—and skill.

Despite being technically coerced into fighting one another, in return for food and shelter, Akira and the others in the ring had never held any real grudges against each other, as she’d previously mentioned. Even when one of them had died from an injury sustained from a fight, they’d stuck together. Perhaps it was due to an unspoken agreement of mutual survival. Indeed, it was easier to survive the cold nights of winter when everyone slept in a giant pile together, sharing body heat.

Besides food, which was generally just staples given to the group as a whole, they were also paid a small amount of money, depending on their performance in the fights, and on the bets placed on and against them. Most of them had generally used this money to buy more food, things to add diversity and weight to their meals. Sometimes it was used to buy a blanket or cheap clothes from thrift stores. Occasionally, one of them would buy a book, a board game, or something else used to pass the time, and was always treated as a community item.

During the day, outside of the expectation that they kept themselves physically fit and capable of fighting to the crowd’s optimal—and twisted—enjoyment, they were permitted to spend their time however they liked. Akira had spent much of her time in the city’s public library, despite the fact that she could barely read.

Cat had apparently disapproved of this.

“It was the first time since we had first teamed up that I outright defied even her opinion,” Akira had said.

Her lack of education, however, had been addressed, if only at the most minimal levels. She’d not only educated herself during her free time at the library, reading about whatever subject she could, but she’d actually managed to make a friend during said visits. Akira never mentioned a name, but explained that he had been roughly her own age, and gradually approached, spoke to, and started to teach her what he had been learning in school.

When pressed for more information about him, however, her eyes glossed over and she’d stare at the ground.

“Let’s leave some things private,” was all she’d say on the subject.

Beyond that, there didn’t seem to be any details of interest—except that Mitsuru had been correct. The type of sword she’d been trained in had been a sabre, apparently a Russian style with a pommel instead of a proper guard and a thicker, less curved blade. Naoto had taken extra care in noting those details; if it came down to it, it would be useful to give Daidara as much to work with as possible, so he could make a weapon she’d be comfortable with.

Though, again, that would be getting ahead of the situation. For now, Akira needed to generally lay low. Naoto agreed—reluctantly—that her taking a job as Shiroku Pub’s new bartender was permissible. In fact, it could even be useful; it was cliché, but bartenders really did sometimes pick up bits of information and rumors from patrons, especially when said patrons were drunk. Naoto had actually broken a case with a lead she’d followed based on a piece of information a bartender had given her, a couple years back.

This was, of course, still operating under the assumption that Akira was still trustworthy. She could also use the position as a cover to gather—No.

_No,_ Naoto scolded herself for the umpteenth time, as she gathered several cans of soda. _You’re being paranoid. Again._

Though, it was a point worth holding on to. They knew nothing about the type of person Akira was before, when she was known as Mutt. According to her, she hadn’t been a very… active person. She’d had a highly _reactive_ personality, following Cat with nearly every decision without question, agreeing to the fighting ring without even realizing how sick the concept was, and so forth. Her personality before her memory returned _did_ support this; she’d seemed to reflect whoever she was talking to, even if subtly, be it with the use of a more formal vocabulary and sentence structure with Naoto, or a more casual and brash tone with Kanji, or—brief as it was—the more relaxed body language with Yosuke.

In hindsight, it was rather unnerving.

It still continued, of course, in just as subtle patterns, but…

But, now it made Naoto uneasy in a whole new manner. It felt friendly and unthreatening. It made her stand out less, despite her foreign nationality and ethnicity resulting in her visually standing out. It made one less likely to consider her of note or worthy of such.

It made Naoto think of Adachi.

_No,_ Naoto carried the soda cans into the drawing room, placing them gently on the low table. _No, that’s unfair. Adachi was—and is—a misogynistic, sadistic misanthrope. Akira might share his trait of changing her behavior—if only mildly—in order to gain approval of those around her, but she at least seems—_

“Naoto-kun?” Akira’s voice cut through her thoughts. The woman was standing near the front door. She was dressed in a black, buttoned shirt and slacks, a dark purple waistcoat and tie, and a solid pair of black boots, her shades held firmly in one hand. Her red-brown hair was pulled back in a neat, short ponytail. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes,” Naoto responded immediately. Aside from the feeling of guilt over having just been questioning the woman’s motives—and having just compared her to _Adachi—_ she wasn’t eager to pull another person into her personal problems. “Are you departing for work early?” She changed the subject.

“Yeah.” Akira nodded, not pushing the topic—just as expected. “Shiroku-san wants to teach me a few more mixes before the Pub opens tonight. Honestly, I never expected to take to this so easily, but remembering at least the most common drinks isn’t all that difficult. And, of course, half the patrons still just drink the most basic stuff.” She coughed. “Thought that being in a different country would let me escape the smell of whiskey, though,” she added in a low voice that Naoto suspected she wasn’t supposed to hear. Louder, she continued, “The guys are coming over for that thing the three of you do on Saturdays, right? So, I’ll be out of your way, too. Win-win, right?”

“You are not in the way,” Naoto said automatically. “And, yes. Kanji-kun and Naoki-kun should be arriving shortly.” She paused. “Have you… dealt with any issues over the past week?” Inaba was friendly enough, for a rural town, but many of its residents still frowned down on outsiders they felt were invading. And, Akira wasn’t _just_ an outsider, at least to those of such a mindset, she was….

“Not really?” Akira’s tone phrased it as a question. She fiddled with her shades. “I mean, I had to deal with a couple of drunk guys being—oh.” Her face lit up. “No. No, I haven’t dealt with that, yet. That I’ve noticed.” She paused. “I dealt with it a lot… before. Because. Yeah. I kinda got used to parts of it, I guess. I’m not sure I’d even notice the… smaller things… if it’s not pointed out to me.” She coughed. “It helps that I generally am only out while it’s dark, and deal almost exclusively with drunk guys. I don’t think most of them can even tell that I’m a woman, let alone….” She coughed once. “A-anyway, I should go.” She ran out the door without another word.

Naoto frowned. Had she phrased her question poorly again? Social cues were still a mild enigma to her, even now, and interaction with Akira had the added difficulty of differing cultures to deal with.

Perhaps it was best if she simply allowed the woman some space. She was still adjusting to a rather large number of changed. Maybe after another week or two….

Her thoughts were broken by the sound of three, very solid knocks at the apartment door.

_That will be Kanji-kun_ , she identified the sound instantly. _Early. Again._

She would be lying if she said that she hadn’t been looking forward to their usual get-together tonight. The past week might have been little more than a blur of classes and homework, but it had still been rather… exhausting. Taking care to avoid unnecessary interactions with the third-years—at least, those outside of the Team—hadn’t helped in that regard, either.

At the very least, several movies with her friends would grant her a respite for a few hours.

 

…

…

 

“I need you to simply observe however you can,” Mitsuru said into the cell phone. “But, be discreet. Most of the Inaba Persona users aren’t as familiar with you—especially those currently in town—and likely won’t recognize you if you don’t draw their attention. This woman in particular won’t be able to identify you at all. However, Shirogane will likely have obtained information on you by now; that may include your appearance.”

She would have rather been in the limousine they’d used on their first mission to Inaba; it granted her better access to their equipment and technology, and permitted a larger group to accompany her. However, discretion was of utmost importance, and she already stood out in the small town as it was. The small, black car would have to suffice. It was likely already mildly suspicious, simply parked in the far corner of the Junes lot, with two people still seated in it.

“Of course, Mitsuru-senpai,” the soft, feminine voice said on the other end of the call. “I shall be cautious.”

Mitsuru hung up.

“Mitsuru-san,” Aigis spoke from the passenger seat. “Should we not inform the others of Fuuka-san’s surveillance?”

Mitsuru looked at her for a quiet moment.

“Not at this time,” she eventually said. “We need to gather as much information as we can. At the moment, that requires that we operate separately.”

“But,” Aigis pointed out, “Naoto-san has continued to forward new information to us regarding Akira-san. Is it not appropriate that we return the courtesy?”

Mitsuru hesitated. She didn’t like keeping the young detective in the dark, true. Naoto was brilliant, dependable, and skilled at her job. She was also stubborn—not unlike herself, Mitsuru noted with a smile.

“Shirogane-san will insist in participating in the mission herself,” Mitsuru said. “She may be a professional detective, but she is also a student. Her files at Yasogami show that she’s consistently scored highest in her year on exams since her enrollment—despite her absences for due to various cases from April through to early July. It is important that she has as few distractions from her studies as possible.”

Aigis blinked at her, before smiling.

“I comprehend.”

Mitsuru swore the android’s voice held a hint of amusement behind it.

“Regardless, we also are currently uncertain as to the true nature of Akira-san,” Mitsuru continued. “It would be foolish of us to simply assume that she’s being completely truthful.”

“My scans showed no evidence suggesting—”

“And it might not. She could have practice or training in circumventing polygraphs and similar devices. Or, her old personality could have slowly resurfaced as she recovered and sorted through her memories. We can’t be utterly certain, at least not until we discover who is behind her… physical status.”

“So, then you agree with my admission of information to Naoto-san?”

“About her altered genetic makeup?” Mitsuru asked. “Honestly, I don’t know. But, for now, it’s decision we’ll have to live with—and accept any consequences that result.” She paused. “If nothing else, keeping that knowledge from her and her companions will prevent them from making decisions based on it alone.” She looked out the window. “I am going for a walk,” she announced, just before opening the door. “Contact me immediately if something happens.”

“Acknowledged.” Aigis’s voice had that tone again.

Mitsuru held her fur coat close against her body. It was unseasonably cold for mid-September, even for the early evening.

She didn’t exactly relish walking the entire way to the Central Shopping District, but she also didn’t want to debate her destination with Aigis, who was likely to determine that it was statistically unlikely to result in any useful intel.

_Nothing about this is making much sense._

A theory she’d been loath to voice, even to Aigis—especially to Aigis—was that Akira’s old personality had actually been completely overwritten. Or that a second one had been created, sharing the same body as the original.

They’d seen it before, after all.

Mitsuru frowned.

If the Plume of Dusk fragment found at the scene of Akira’s apparent escape _had_ been part of a full Plume used for such a procedure…

Then, she would be able to wield a Persona.

Which meant, living in Inaba, she was in constant danger of falling into a television into the world of the Midnight Channel.

There was also the question of whether or not using a Plume counted towards forcing the awakening. It apparently didn’t with androids—they generally had no ego before its use—but there was little information on its general effect on humans.

Except that it certainly wasn’t beneficial to their mental health.

Mitsuru stopped, looking up at the purple neon lights of the Shiroku Pub.

This was likely a waste of time.

She entered the Pub anyway.

A few of the patrons at the bar turned and looked at her, but their eyes were already glassed over with inebriation. Surprisingly, they were then far more interested in their drinks than in her.

A mild irritation burned in her stomach, despite her overall relief.

She sat down in an empty seat at the far end.

“Hello, dear,” the woman who was clearly the Pub’s—and Store’s—owner said in a warm voice. She was dressed in a low-cut, red dress, her hair held up in a tall, elaborate style Mitsuru couldn’t quite place. “We’ll be right with you.” She turned to a large fish tank that took up nearly the entirety of the back wall, placing a something in it. Before Mitsuru could see what the object was, it was devoured by the long, white fish kept in said tank.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a familiar voice spoke, causing her to turn sharply to face it. “Haven’t seen your face here before. What can I get you?”

Mitsuru looked straight into the bartender’s eyes—or, rather, attempted to, instead gazing at a pair of large-frame shades that hid half of her face.

She refrained from a laugh, allowing herself only the slightest smile at the irony.

“I’m simply here on business,” she kept her voice casual. “I have little preference tonight; surprise me.”

Akira smiled at her, the spark in her eyes barely visible behind her lenses.

“That much,” she chuckled, “I can promise you.”

 

…

…

 

Naoki ran down the street, past Moel gas station.

_I’m so late, my mother is going to freak_ , he panicked. _I just_ had _to be an idiot and forget my textbook and had to walk halfway across town back to—!_

Every light on the street burned out at once.

Naoki stopped instantly, nearly falling over from momentum.

“What the…?” He asked aloud. “A blackout?”

It didn’t make sense. The weather had been perfectly fine all week. There hadn’t been any storms or even strong winds to have caused a downed electric pole.

Maybe a car accident had…?

_But_ , Naoki noted as he looked around, _that_ still _wouldn’t have caused every light on the street to die at the same time_. He looked up at the sky. The moon was barely visible, the yellow crescent tinted the slightest shade of green.

In fact… the sky seemed to be—

No, he was imagining things. He just needed to get home.

Naoki pulled out his cell phone, half-tempted to text Kanji, see if his power was out.

A blank screen reflected his face but showed nothing else. The device was completely unresponsive, no matter which button he pressed.

_What the_ hell? Naoki was legitimately freaked out now. _This thing was completely charged when I left Naoto-kun’s earlier. Did—did the battery get loose or_ —?

A sharp chill ran down his spine. He heard footsteps echo in the distance.

_Get home,_ he told himself. _I just gotta get home._

Something seemed very off about the walls of the stores as he passed them. He walked briskly, but couldn’t quite find the drive to run. He wasn’t sure why, but his heart was pounding against his ribs.

Again. Though, this time, he found himself wishing for that _other_ terror back.

At least _that_ one didn’t feel like Death was looming over him.

As he passed by the Shiroku—the Pub _never_ closed before midnight, why were the lights off? —he noticed a piece of technology in the window turn on, illuminating the ground just in front of it with the only artificial light on the street.

A television. An old one, too. It was probably still left in the window out of habit; no one was going to buy such a small, boxy device, even for travel or private use.

The screen was filled with static, glowing a faint yellow color. He could hear the TV humming and popping from it.

“Ssssshhhhhh…” A deep voice was barely audible from it. “…Aaaaaaaax…”

_Wait,_ his mind raced. _I know this rumor, it’s_ —!

Before he could finish the thought, however, it was interrupted by the sound of— _something_ in the store, behind the window. Something growling. Or roaring. Whatever it was, it wasn’t human.

Naoki backed up slowly. His lungs froze and he could feel the pain contracting in his chest.

_Please, no_ , was all he could think before—

—He backed right into someone.

Naoki screamed—rather high-pitched for his voice—as he jumped, turning to face whatever horror was behind him.

Said horror happened to be a tall man in a leather trench coat and dark knit cap. The man blinked down at the panting kid for a moment.

“Relax, sport,” he said with a chuckle. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” He raised both hands, palms visible, to signify this. “Though, you really oughta head home. Tonight’s not a great night.”

“Wh-what…” Naoki stammered at him. “Wh-who?”

“Go on,” he repeated. “I’m sure they’ll have the power back on in a few minutes.”

Naoki nodded once at him, before turning and running down the street as fast as he could.

The man watched until he was out of sight, then turned towards the flickering screen, just as it faded to black again.

“Stupid bitch,” the man muttered under his breath. “You’re forcing me to make a move far earlier than I should. She’s not recovered, yet. Acting now could get her killed. But, delay could result in a _massacre_.” He sighed. “It’d help if I had just one more card in my hand.” He froze, turning slightly to glance behind him.

“I know you’re there,” he called out. “And I know you’re a Persona user.” He paused. “But, apparently not one focused on combat,” he added to himself, before he gave a dry chuckle. “I know what this looks like, but trust me; I ain’t nothin’ special. Just a biker who sold his soul as a kid. That’s why they ignore me. There ain’t nothin’ left for ‘em.” He turned back to the screen. “I’ll be around; know that you ain’t the only ones trying to prevent a disaster.”

Even if the person—a young woman, from the energy her Persona was giving off—didn’t believe him, it was a sort of relief to speak his true allegiance aloud again.

“It would help if I knew what hand I’ve even been dealt, this time,” he said to himself, as he started down the street, in the general direction of the town’s inn. He pulled a deck of cards out of a pack, strapped to his belt, under his coat. He drew four cards, flipping them over in one hand to read them.

_The Hanged Man._

_The Magician._

_The Emperor._

_The Wheel of Fortune, reversed._

“Interesting,” he breathed. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a proper reading, and thus he couldn’t truly interpret their meanings, even if he _did_ have the full understanding necessary. But, now he had a better idea of the cards he’d been dealt with for this mission.

Now, the question was, how to play them?

And, could he keep these potential allies alive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing textspeak.  
> (Updates, like this one, may be a little slower. Term just started, and while I'm only part-time, I'm also desperately hunting for a second job. Bear with me, though. I still will update semi-regularly; I can't tear myself from these dorks for long.)


	10. Azure

Naoto shoved her hands into her jacket’s pockets. It was only mid-September, but the chill in the air was simply too much; she’d decided to start wearing her winter uniform jacket to school, even if she would have to take it off upon arrival. Now, even though she still wasn’t quite warm, she could at least keep from excessive shivering.

She’d decided to leave at her usual time.

The risks involved with arriving at school early were more than worth it.

If nothing else, it hadn’t been raining for a little over a week. While Naoto had no real opinion on rain in general, in the autumn it did add the downside of making one even colder, especially when one was caught without an umbrella.

And, the unusual cold had the extra benefit of influencing others to delay their own commute until it was absolutely necessary.

Which would lower her odds of interacting with anyone she’d rather avoid.

Not that she was _actively_ avoiding anyone. She removed a hand from her jacket’s warmth long enough to pull down on the brim of her hat. That’d be ludicrous. And craven.

She just didn’t have the energy to deal with others’ bigotry today.

In fact, Naoto almost didn’t see anyone, student or otherwise, for the majority of her commute. It wasn’t until she was on the final stretch to the school’s campus that her clear peace was broken by a cheerful voice.

“Hey! Naoto-kun!”

Naoto turned to face the third-year girl, as she dashed up to the young detective.

“Good morning, Chie-senpai,” Naoto said with a small, though genuine, smile. “You’re arriving to school early this morning.”

“Heheh, yeah,” Chie said with a light chuckle, pulling on her track jacket.

_It would appear that I’m not the only person who considers the weather too cold for the summer uniform,_ Naoto felt a surge of relief.

“Gotta keep in shape, ya know?” Chie continued.

“I presume you’re referring to your intent to pursue a career as a police officer.”

“Yep! Someone has to stick around and keep this place safe for us to come back to,”  her tone was casual.

Naoto frowned slightly.

Chie had always had a generally upbeat attitude, but she’d become increasingly more positive over the past couple months, especially in terms of her plans after graduation. Despite occasional banter on the subject with Yosuke, she didn’t seem to falter from the idea in the slightest from the day she’d announced her plans to the Team, on the day that Yu had left for the city again. She’d never been discouraged by the admittedly daunting amount of education, studying, and examinations it would require.

Or, Naoto noted with a light churn of her innards, by her gender.

No, quite the contrary, Chie had embraced her femininity—and without discarding the elements of her identity that didn’t directly fit society’s expectations as such. She’d grown out her hair—just to her shoulders, but it was more than Naoto had done.

And, that was what made Naoto uneasy.

Not the thought that Chie had grown—metaphorically speaking—more than she had. No, in many ways, she was deeply happy and proud of her friend. Of all of them, to be honest. None of them had remained in complete stasis, after all.

But, Naoto still struggled with it, especially when with others outside of the Team. No one outside of their main group, for example, had seen her in feminine clothing, with her chest completely unbound. Not even Naoki, despite the significant amount of time he’d spent with her and Kanji since the previous spring.

“Naoto-kun?” Chie cut through her thoughts. “You okay?”

“Hmm?” She looked at her. “I am fine.”

“Actually,” Chie said in a low tone, as they approached the school’s front gates, “I did have an… ulterior motive for leaving early today.” She coughed once. “Yosuke wants us all to meet up at the Shrine after school today. He said it was urgent.” She hesitated. “Could you tell Kanji for us?”

“Why not send the message by phone?” Naoto asked.

“He asked that we didn’t. Just in case.”

_Just in case of what?_ Chie’s confused expression suggested that she would not have any concrete answer, either. _Is he afraid of someone having access to our phone communications, either text messages or normal calls? Or emails?_

_Did something happen this weekend to have him on edge like that?_

They entered the school, to find one of said classmates standing in front of his shoe locker.

“Morning, Kanji!” Chie said with another smile.

“Good morning, Kanji-kun.”

“Huh?” He blinked at them. “Wha—?” He seemed caught off-guard, turning back to his locker. “H-hey, senpai. N-Naoto.”

“You’re here early today!” Chie pointed out. “Is something up?”

“Is some—no!” Kanji insisted, pulling his own uniform jacket over his dark purple, buttoned shirt. “I just—I, uh—what’s up?” He barked at Chie.

“Not much,” Chie said. “Though this does save us both the trouble.”

“Huh?”

“Yosuke-senpai wants us all to meet at the Shrine after school,” Naoto said.

“Not Junes?” He asked, looking at her directly.

 “I didn’t ask,” Chie said with a shrug. “I guess he’ll explain when we get there.”

“O-okay,” Kanji still couldn’t seem to steady his voice. “I-I’ll see ya there, then!” He said rapidly, before dashing away, towards the staircase to the second floor.

“Kanji-kun?” Naoto called after him, to no avail. “He’s been acting somewhat strangely, lately.”

“Compared to any other day?” Chie said with a light laugh. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Actually, senpai,” Naoto started, turning to her own locker and starting to switch her shoes, “may I ask you a question?”

“Of course!”

“You have known Kanji-kun longer than I have,” she started. “I do not wish to offend him, but….” She trailed off, turning to Chie. The third-year was practically staring at her with a hard-to-read expression. Naoto suddenly felt very uncomfortable, but couldn’t quite articulate why. “I wanted to ask if you thought he’d be affronted if I offered to assist him with schoolwork privately—so as to not bring any extra help required to the attention of our study group.” She added hastily, under Chie’s raised eyebrow.

Chie blinked for a moment, as if taking in the question. Her face visibly fell for the briefest moment—what had she expected the second-year to ask?

“No,” Chie said. “I don’t think that he’d be offended. I mean, I can’t say he’d say yes, but I think he’d appreciate the offer, at least.” She turned back to her own shoe locker, a chuckle barely audible.

_I feel like I’m missing something_ , Naoto thought.

Maybe it was just another social cue she didn’t quite grasp, yet.

 

…

…

 

It might have just been the cold, but the entire student body at Yasogami seemed to be equally sluggish as they left that afternoon. Naoki had hardly noticed as Kanji and Naoto left with their own lethargic goodbyes—apparently they had a meeting planned with their senpai after class.

All Naoki could think about—as he staggered down the stairs to his shoe locker—was about how tired he felt, and how his muscles ached.

That, and the strange blackout the previous Saturday. His parents had been in their room for the night—he was far too relieved that he was getting away with breaking curfew without a lecture to disturb them. But, the power still hadn’t returned when he’d gone to bed; it had, however, at some point before he’d woken the next day.

Yet, no one had mentioned it, either on Sunday or today at school.

That unnerved him. Naoki decided not to bring it up.

Though, every time he looked at the sky now, he couldn’t help but remember how eerie the moon had looked, a slightly green crescent among like-tinted clouds.

_Panic_ , he decided, as he sluggishly slipped on his shoes at his locker. _It was a trick of the mind. I was freaking out over breaking curfew; I wasn’t thinking straight._

_But… was that thing with the TV really that rumor…? The Midnight Channel?_

He frowned.

“Well,” A familiar, grating voice broke through his lethargy. “If it ain’t Konishi!”

“Takazawa-senpai,” Naoki acknowledged him without turning around. He slipped his bag’s strap back onto his shoulder.

“Hey, man!” A second voice—one of Takazawa’s two cronies that typically hung around him, especially when he was tormenting someone. “Why ya so bummed?”

“Yeah!” The voice of the other one sneered. “Maybe ya need a drink, eh?”

“Really?” Naoki turned to face them, a single eyebrow raised. “You aren’t even original.” He’d heard all the liquor-related jokes before he’d even reached middle school.

“Chill, guys,” Takazawa said, glancing at each of his friends. He looked back at Naoki. “I ain’t here for you, Konishi. I jus’ wanna know where—”

“Even if I knew,” Naoki interrupted, “I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Hey, man, I just wanna talk.”

“Right,” Naoki scoffed. “If you were smart,” he narrowed his eyes at him, “you’d leave them alone.”

“What, are _you_ gonna do something?” Takazawa gave a short laugh. “Why do that? You got a crush on Tatsumi, too? Or Shirogane?”

Naoki’s frown deepened, but he said nothing.

“Or, do ya think squealing to Daisuke will matter? Laps don’t scare me, and I can always quit the team if he gets too annoying.”

_No,_ Naoki thought to himself. _I can’t let that happen; he’d have_ nothing _to keep him from causing trouble._

“I don’t have to do anything,” Naoki said calmly. “You know,” he looked away in almost-feigned disinterest, “it’s actually kind of baffling that you’d pick them to torment, out of everyone in the school.”

“What do you mean?” Takazawa narrowed his eyes at him, while his cronies glanced at each other from either side of him.

“I mean, Kanji’s not exactly a lightweight—he apparently really did take out that biker gang single-handed. So, clearly, tormenting him is inviting trouble. But,” Naoki looked back at him, “he’s not the one you need to worry about. Or, have you forgotten that Naoto-kun’s a _detective?_ And that she not only can easily have you arrested, but carries a _gun_ while on-duty?”

“They ain’t gonna try anything.”

“You’ve never seen her angry, have you?” Naoki smirked. An idea clicked in his head. “Or, maybe, that’s the point.”

“What?”

“It’s not _Kanji_ you have a grudge with, is it?” Naoki adjusted his bag’s strap. “I mean, a bunch of guys didn’t like Naoto at first, sure, but that was because they thought she was… competition. Now, most of the student body—male and female—tends to at least respect her; at the very least, no one but punks attempt to torment to her face. And, even then, none of them focus on her; they have a pool of victims they harass. Yet, you focus solely on her and Kanji.” Naoki noticed Takazawa’s eyes widening, his companions looking at him. “But, that would imply—!”

“I think you should go,” Takazawa said sharply, glaring at him.

“Hmm?” Naoki feigned confusion. “Yeah; for once, I can agree. I certainly have better things to do.” He started towards the door. “And, so do you.” He glanced back at the angry third-year, before leaving the building.

As he passed through the front gate, a softer, friendlier voice stopped him.

“H-hey, N-Naoki-kun, is-isn’t it?”

Naoki stopped, turning to face them.

The woman from the other day—the one living with Naoto, now—stood against the wall surrounding the school campus. She was wearing a black, knee-length duffel-style coat, the hood up, over a pair of like-colored slacks and boots, as well as a pair of large sunglasses.

_She stands out_ , Naoki noted. _Unless she expects it to rain soon._

Admittedly, the overcast sky did support such a theory, but….

“Hey,” Naoki greeted her with an awkward smile. “Akira-san, isn’t it?”

“That’s what they call me.” She put her hands in her pockets, looking away. “Y-you got a minute?”

“…Sure,” Naoki hesitated. “What’s up?”

Akira walked up to the edge of the wall, lowering her voice so only he could hear.

“Could…?” She cleared her throat. “I need you to keep this a secret, especially from Naoto-kun, but… could you do me a huge favor?”

 

…

…

 

“Is Teddie comin’?” Kanji asked, leaning back against the fencing around the Shrine’s _yorishiro_ tree.

“Not this time,” Yosuke said, standing directly across from him in the group’s circle. “He couldn’t get off of work in time, and this is too urgent to wait. I’ll just relay information to him today. Besides,” he added, “we had the same experience anyway.”

“What do you mean, Yosuke-senpai?” Naoto asked. “You… experienced something?”

“I know I had the weirdest dream last night,” Chie said, before chuckling.

“Yeah, senpai?” Kanji scratched at the back of his neck. “I don’ think that was a dream.”

“Are you sure about that, Kanji?” Yosuke smirked at him.

“Shut up, Yosuke,” Kanji growled.

“I’m sorry…” Yukiko said, struggling to keep back a laugh. “I-I know it’s…pfffft!” She barely managed to keep from bursting, hands clenching her arms, body shaking from the effort.

Damn it, could he just let that go? Yosuke was probably still just sore that he’d actually lost that fight—though only barely. Hell, when that particular Shadow’s plot had been derailed long enough for everyone to rejoin the fight, Yosuke had gone and lost again right away. So, he obviously had no more right to complain about how Kanji got involved. Or tease him over it.

“Wait,” Chie looked at Kanji. “Are you serious? I thought Yosuke was jerking me around again. You mean, that was _real?_ ”

“I have no idea what you are referring to,” Naoto was obviously lost.

“Remember that… weird thing that happened in May?” Yosuke asked. “With that red fog? What did those other Persona users call it? The Black something?”

“The Dark Hour?” Naoto breathed, eyes wide. “You mean you—?”

“Yeah, so did I,” Kanji said with a nod. “I was workin’ on a project, when the lights all went out and some blood-lookin’ stuff was dripping down the walls. I tried to text—uh, to text someone, but my phone wouldn’ work.”

“Ours either,” Yosuke said.

“Yeah,” Chie said with a nod, “nothing electronic was working. And, everything looked kinda… green.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t notice, Detective Prince.” Yosuke smiled at Naoto.

“I…” Naoto blinked at him, and then looked at the ground. “I went to bed early the past two nights. Specifically, before midnight.” She hesitated. “So, no, I was not awake to experience the Dark Hour. Though, I suspect I was… unaffected by its reappearance, just as you were.”

“So, you saw it, too, Yukiko?” Chie asked.

“Yeah.” Yukiko’s expression sobered. “Last night. I was up late after—after dealing with a large party at the inn!” She said quickly.

Kanji raised an eyebrow at her.

What was her deal? Her family’s inn dealt with large reservations all the time, and she’d been helping out for years. Why was she getting all worked up about it?

“It was really creepy,” she said just as quickly. “And I could feel my Persona the entire time. She was really loud.”

There was a long silence while the others all blinked at her.

“What?” She blinked at them. “Couldn’t you feel yours?”

“Well, yeah,” Kanji said. It was true, he _could_ feel Rokuten Maoh floating around in his mind, or however Yu had put it. Granted, he usually kept to emotions and feelings and stuff outside of battle—which they hadn’t been in for a while—where those thoughts became more like words—though not quite—buzzing in the back of his head.

Yu _had_ explained it—a couple of times—that it was kind of like his conscience. Kanji couldn’t completely wrap his head around it—and, apparently, most of the others couldn’t quite understand it, either—it was just that type of weird—but he knew his Persona was there, even in their world, when they typically couldn’t summon them.

Naoto had told him once—quietly, as if she were ashamed of it—that hers spoke to her much more clearly, very much like a conscience, just as Yu had said. And, that it sounded very much like she did.

“Do you think we could’ve summoned them during that?” Yosuke offered. “Should we try, if it happens again tonight?”

“No,” Naoto spoke up. “It may be a bad idea to evoke our Personas without a Shadow to fight. If you find yourself in danger, obviously it would be quite beneficial, but otherwise….”

“Maybe we should meet up tonight, before it starts at midnight,” Yosuke said. “Just in case. I mean,” he looked around at the others, “not that we can’t all hold our own in a fair fight, but….”

“No,” Naoto said, “you’ve got a point. We have no room for pride; any of us can be overwhelmed, with fatal consequences. Though, if we’re all together, then we might just risk drawing attention….” She trailed off, staring at the ground, fist against her mouth in thought.

“Yo, Naoto?” Kanji blinked at her. “What’s up?”

“Mitsuru-san said she’d remain in the area,” she pointed out. “And, we are all aware that she is also a Persona user.”

“Which means that she’d have experienced this new Dark Hour, just like us!” Yosuke’s face lit up.

“But,” Kanji said, crossing his arms, “why wouldn’t she warn us about it?”

“Yes,” Naoto said with a single nod. “That is very… concerning.” She paused. “She’s been giving us useful information thus far, but I suspect she’s still holding secrets back. Beyond just the apparent return of the Dark Hour.”

“It still doesn’t make sense,” Yosuke said. “We could have been killed. Naoto, you weren’t even awake! What if a Shadow had been in your apartment? It could have killed you in your sleep!”

Panic seized Kanji’s chest.

He was right. Two nights in a row, Naoto’s life had been in danger—she hadn’t even been conscious of it—and he hadn’t even realized it. Until now.

“Relax, Yosuke,” Chie said, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “Naoto’s too light of a sleeper to let anything sneak up on her.”

“Regardless, Yosuke-senpai makes an excellent point,” Naoto said. “We would do well to aim to meet in teams, to increase our battle capabilities without drawing excessive attention to ourselves.”

“Right,” Yosuke said. “It would be the least suspicious if we just teamed up by gender, and it would guarantee at least one person on each has a heal power, but…” he trailed off.

“What is it?” Yukiko asked.

“It is a sound strategy,” Naoto agreed.

“Yeah,” Yosuke said. “It would give each team basic survivability, but… it wouldn’t quite be the best combat setup.”

“What do you mean?” Chie asked.

Naoto looked at Yosuke.

“Each team would—as you mentioned—have access to at least one healing ability, and a fair range of elemental abilities; your team would have your Wind spells, Teddie’s Ice spells, and Kanji-kun’s Electric spells. Our team would have the option of Chie-senpai’s Ice and Physical spells, Yukiko-senpai’s Fire spells, and my… er, my slight range of spells.”

“Yeah,” Yosuke said with a laugh, “I _still_ wish you’d join us earlier in the investigation last year; it would have made some of those fights so much easier.”

“Regardless,” Naoto continued, “without Yu-senpai or Rise-san in Inaba, it is one of the most balanced set of team rosters we can form without simply remaining as a single group.”

“Y-yeah,” Yosuke said, nodding a few times, looking at the floor. He bit his lip for the briefest moment, making Kanji feel that he wasn’t supposed to notice. “And, it’s almost perfect, too. I mean, I’m sure I’m not the only one that’s noticed that some of us work best with one Teammate over the others.”

“Whadaya mean, senpai?” Kanji blinked.

“I mean, like how Chie and Yukiko work well together, with even their Persona capable of using special attacks together that they can’t do alone.” Yosuke scratched at the back of his neck. “And, as much as he gets on my nerves sometimes, Teddie and I work well together in pretty much the same way.”

“But, those duos would still—oh,” Yukiko started, before her face lit up, and she quickly looked at the ground.

_She’s right, though_ , Kanji thought. _So why…?_

Then he remembered who would be left.

He glanced over at Naoto, who was standing just to his left. She was looking at him, but the moment they made eye contact, they both quickly looked away.

Heat spread across Kanji’s face.

“No one here can deny that the two of you work very well together in combat,” Yosuke said. “But, until Rise comes back for her break, we have three choices: have our two teams be unbalanced, remain split by gender and do without that particular strength, or break down further into those three pairs.” He coughed. “Teddie and I are generally in the same place at midnight, anyway, so that’s not a worry. Chie and Yukiko already spend a lot of time together, so no one will question them hanging out until late. But….”

“Y-yeah,” Kanji rubbed at the back of his neck.

“I don’t see an issue.” Naoto’s voice was even.

“H-huh?” Kanji looked at her.

She was looking at Yosuke, however.

“We are both second-years, in the same class, and good friends,” Naoto continued. “It is a logical conclusion that we would study and complete homework together. So, his mother would have little reason to question why we would be spending time together until midnight. And, I currently don’t live at my grandfather’s estate, so there’s no one who would have a viable reason to question my location at that time.” She coughed once. “So, we’d only have three sets of parents to persuade: Chie-senpai’s, Yukiko-senpai’s, and Kanji-kun’s. Clearly, it is the choice with the least outside resistance.”

“Uh, N-Naoto?” Yosuke stammered, briefly exchanging a glance with Chie. “Y-You sure that there isn’t any, uh, other reason that… set up might not, uh…?”

Kanji focused his gaze on the ground, just in front of his feet.

“No,” Naoto sounded lost. “What do you mean?”

_Really?_ Kanji choked. _There’s being clueless, and then there’s freakin’_ tin-eared!

“N-never mind!” Yosuke stammered. “If no one has any objections….”

“I think I can manage that,” Yukiko said brightly.

“Y-yeah!” Chie agreed.

“Wh-whatever.” Kanji tried to ignore the lump in his throat.

“Then, that’s settled.” Yosuke clapped his hands once, making Kanji start and look up at him. “Chie and Yukiko will be together at midnight—however you girls want to do that—and, of course, Teddie and I will be at home. And you’ll, er,” he quickly looked back and forth at Kanji and Naoto, “you’ll… yeah! We’ve got this!” He cleared his throat. “So, we’ll all meet up early at school tomorrow, and discuss our findings. No one do anything crazy, though, all right?” He looked at Kanji. “We need everyone to stay safe.” He glanced at Chie. “So, don’t go running after trouble.”

“Oh, _one time_ I—!”

“Wait a moment!” Yukiko cut her off. “What about Akira-san?”

“What about her?” Kanji asked, secretly thankful for the change in subject.

“Didn’t Aigis-san mention that there were drugs in her system that suggested that someone was trying to force her Persona to awaken?”

“Yes,” Naoto said, thinking. “You’re concerned that she’s experiencing the Dark Hour, too.” She paused. “I actually doubt that is the case. Akira-san has been working at the Shiroku Pub nearly every night for the past week. Her shift runs well past midnight, so she has clearly been awake. Yet, she has not mentioned anything about any blackouts or other strange situations that would suggest she is conscious during the Dark Hour. I doubt she would stay silent if she had been.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty freaky,” Yosuke said with a nervous chuckle. “Well, if there’s nothing else to discuss right now…”

“What about Mitsuru-san?” Chie reminded him.

“Right!” Yosuke said. “It’s totally weird that she wouldn’t mention the Dark Hour returning.”

“Unless, somehow, she hasn’t experienced it,” Naoto said.

“But, she’s a Persona user.” Yukiko’s face fell. “I thought….”

“Exactly.” Naoto’s tone matched hers. “I can try to investigate further, and… discreetly.”

“You mean, spy?” Kanji blinked at her.

“That is an ugly term,” she returned with her own uncomfortable expression. “But, yes, if necessary.”

“All right.” Yosuke nodded. “Take a few days and see what you can come up with.”

“Should we tell Rise or Yu?” Chie asked.

“Not until we have something more concrete,” Yosuke said, shaking his head. “They’ll just worry. Rise will be here soon enough, and Yu needs to focus on cram school if he’s going to get into a good university.” He stretched, glancing at his phone. “Well, I gotta get to work. See you guys tomorrow!”

“Later!” Kanji said, as Yosuke jogged away, towards the street.

“I should be heading back, too,” Yukiko said. “Have a good night!”

“Hey, Yukiko!” Chie ran after her. “Wait up!”

 There was a long silence, as Kanji attempted to look anywhere but the small detective. He eventually cleared his throat.

“So, uh,” Kanji started, giving her a cautious glance. “W-what’s up?”

“I apologize.” Naoto wasn’t looking at him. “I did not intend to… put you on the spot, as it were.”

“Uh,” Kanji looked away, rubbing at the back of his neck. “’S cool.”

“I actually did want to ask if… if you would like further assistance with your studies. Beyond our usual group meetings with Naoki-kun and Ayane-san.”

“Huh?”

“I did not phrase that properly.” Naoto paused. “I am offering to assist you with schoolwork in private, as well as at our usual study groups, if there are… any subjects you would… like further guidance in. I can… understand not wishing to… to bring it to the attention of the others.” She seemed to be struggling to word her offer.

Did he hear that right?

She was offering to help him study?

Privately?

_Calm down, Tatsumi,_ Kanji knew better. This was just what she said: an offer to help him with school, in a place that meant that he didn’t have to worry about sounding stupid to the others, or saying anything embarrassing.

At least, nothing embarrassing about homework.

“L-like, as a re-regular thing?”

_Damn it. Stop stammerin’ already._

“If you would like.” Her gaze was still focused on the shrine.

“S-sure,” Kanji eventually got out. “Th-thanks.”

“There is no need to thank me.” She paused again. “I was not wholly honest. E-earlier, I m-mean.”

She was stammering. Was something bugging her?

“Whadaya mean?”

“I, er, I omitted part of my reasoning for supporting tonight’s team rosters.” She turned to look at the giant tree behind them, still avoiding looking directly at him. “While I do enjoy the company of our senpai, and immensely so, I must admit this mission’s nature already has me somewhat on edge.” She stopped, pulling down on the brim of her hat.

“So, uh,” Kanji tried to fill the sudden silence. “You’re saying… that our senpai make you nervous?”

“No!” Naoto said quickly. “I-I mean,” she calmed down, “I simply favor interaction and… socialization in smaller groups, when possible. Obviously, a single person is thus preferable to two. A-and,” she looked at the floor, “I was correct when I stated previously that we are good friends, yes?”

_Oh_ , Kanji thought he figured it out.

“Y-yeah, of course!” He forced a grin. “Do ya really have to ask?”

Hadn’t they spent half their summer together? Naoki had been there for most of it, too, but it had been Kanji who had first brought him along.

Unless she really _did_ prefer Naoki over him.

_Of course she don’t!_ Kanji instantly scolded himself. _She_ just _said that we’re friends! Calm_ down _, Tatsumi!_

“You’re right,” Naoto said. “I apologize.”

“Nah, don’t,” Kanji said. “It’s all right.”

There was another long silence.

“So, uh,” Kanji eventually started again. “We sh-should probably get goin’, yeah?”

“Y-yes,” Naoto turned sharply to face him. She pulled on her hat again, covering her eyes. “That would likely be an appropriate course of action. Sh-shall we relocate t-to your home, or—I mean, as it was the offer for assistance was mine, etiquette does suggest that I should suggest we go to my—”

“Uh, if you’re cool with it,” Kanji spoke, quicker than he meant to, “we sh-should probably go to your place. I-I mean, Ma’s got a customer comin’ over today for a large order and—”

And, honestly, if it was between having his mother nearby while getting private tutoring from Naoto—who was way too fast to say was _a very lovely young lady, very well-dressed, and polite, and_ —and, _shut up, Ma_ , Kanji would say with a red face—or having her know that said lessons were at _Naoto’s_ apartment—and _completely_ alone—well…

At least this way he’d only have to hear his ma’s teasing afterwards—and not have that feeling of anxiety the entire time, too.

“Y-yes, that is an excellent point,” Naoto said with a light cough. “I… I need to pick some things up from the Shiroku. Shall I meet you outside your home in fifteen minutes, then?”

“Sounds cool.” Kanji tried to not sound too excited. Yes, she had pretty much invited him to spend time with her. Alone. But, it was for school. That was strictly platonic, right?

Right?

“All right,” she said simply, before tipping her hat and quickly walking away, towards the street.

Kanji hesitated.

He’d forgotten that he’d first have to _tell_ his mother that he was going to Naoto’s. And, technically, get permission.

Kanji suddenly hoped that the Dark Hour really _had_ returned; it would be less nerve-racking than getting _that_ smile—or, worse, _that_ lecture—from his ma. Again.

 

…

…

 

Akira closed the cell phone, before letting out a slow, heavy sigh.

“Well, that was a waste of… a lot of things,” she eventually settled on.

She walked the short distance back to Naoki, handing the device back to him.

“Thanks again,” she said. “And, uh, sorry about the long-distance charge. I can pay you back for that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Naoki said with a smile. “Though,” his face sobered, “I’m gonna have to explain that charge to Mom….”

“Tell her a pretty girl asked to use your phone after school,” Akira suggested. “Technically, it’s not a lie.”

“A little self-serving there, aren’t you?” Naoki smirked.

“Please,” Akira was audibly holding back a laugh. “I’m thousands of miles away from an even remotely familiar face or voice, and I have to wear these huge shades and hang around either a bunch of teenagers or drunk men to keep from getting caught by the police—or worse. I’ll take what I can get.” She paused, as they gave each other blank looks. “Uh, that sounded a lot less creepy in my head.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “It happens.” He paused. “So, who did you call? I-if you don’t mind….” He added hastily, after she started with a light choking sound.

“Uh, y-you know,” she stammered. “Just… just someone who should p-probably know th-that I’m still alive. Sort of.” She stared at the ground. “For what good it did me.”

“What do you mean?” Naoki asked.

“Eh, I’m just whining to myself,” Akira raised a single hand in dismissal of her own words. “Don’t listen to me, kid. I’m just jaded from being a lifetime of being used by others.” She smiled—perhaps forcibly so, Naoki couldn’t quite tell. “Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.” She shoved her hands in her coat pockets. “I gotta go get ready for work. Thanks again for the assist. Have a good one!” She started to walk away. “And don’t tell Naoto-kun, all right?”

As he watched Akira walk down the hill and out of sight, he started to think that maybe that was one promise that would be better to break.

 

…

…

 

Mitsuru entered the Pub with a deep sigh.

She really didn’t like this idea, but Fuuka had told her that the strange man she’d seen during the sudden reappearance of the Dark Hour on Saturday had been in the Pub for hours the night before. Yet, when she’d witnessed him leave shortly before midnight, he appeared to be completely sober—something her Persona’s scanning abilities confirmed once the Dark Hour started.

Which was yet another thing she likely ought to properly inform Shirogane and the other local Persona-users about, but….

But, as uncomfortable as she felt with keeping information—especially information as important as the return of the Dark Hour—from them, she felt even more uncomfortable with giving them only shreds of information.

Not getting the whole picture could result in dangerous assumptions.

Something she was extremely familiar with.

_And,_ she noted to herself as she sat at the far end of the booth again, _at least I’m not giving them_ misinformation. _I trust that they can hold their own for another night._

_I need them to._

“Ah, back again, milady?” Akira continued their charade of being generally unfamiliar with each other—an easy act, when they truly didn’t know much more about the other than what was spoken at the Pub.

_Except for Akira’s genetic status_ , Mitsuru corrected herself, _but that’s another incomplete picture I can’t act on, yet._

“Good evening,” Mitsuru replied warmly. She noted that the other patrons didn’t even seem to notice her tonight—save for the man in the trench coat and knit hat at the opposite end of the bar.

“Business running longer than expected?” Akira smirked.

_Damn_ , Mitsuru cursed to herself. _Either she’s trying too hard to be the friendly bartender or she’s_ trying _to draw attention to me._

“Something like that,” Mitsuru hoped that the flat comment would end things.

And, beyond an apparently blank expression from the woman in the waistcoat and shades, it did.

“What’ll ya have?” Akira asked.

“Surprise me,” Mitsuru said simply. “It worked out well enough previously.”

Akira chuckled, pulling out a bottle.

“Hope ya like cognac.”

“Actually,” a voice cut in from further down the bar, “the lady’s drink is on me tonight.”

Mitsuru leaned forward to see who had spoken.

Unsurprisingly, it had been the only man that had even noticed when she’d entered.

And, he fit Fuuka’s description of the man from the Dark Hour.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the offer,” Mitsuru said, “but what interest could you have in paying for a stranger’s drink.”

The man gave a dry chuckle.

“I ain’t tryin’ to flirt with ya, or anything, ma’am,” he said into his own drink. “Just a sort of tradition of mine: whenever I have a bad enough day that I end up at a bar, I always pay for at least one drink for each woman that comes in while I’m there.”

“An odd tradition,” Mitsuru said. “Why not the men, as well?”

The man laughed again—more genuinely this time.

“I did, at first, until a bunch o’ them got offended. _Really_ offended. Offended drunk people are generally just not worth… anything.”

Mitsuru smiled.

This could end up being easier than she’d planned.

“Very well,” she said. “I shall accept.” _This time_.

 

…

…

 

“Shall we take a break?” Naoto suggested, scowling at the textbook in front of her.

Kanji made an unintelligible sound, something between a groan and a whine, slightly muffled against his own textbook. Much as usual, he had taken to signifying his frustration by pressing his face against its pages.

Naoto took that as an agreement.

“It is starting to get late,” she noted, glancing at the clock on the dining room wall. “Perhaps we should simply call it a night altogether. I believe we have made enough progress for one night.”

Kanji replied with another muffled sound.

“It would probably be best if you did not press your face against your textbook in that manner,” Naoto continued. “You are viable to break your glasses if you continue.” _Or, at the very least, warp them into a highly uncomfortable shape._

“I don’t see how I’m ever gonna get this,” Kanji sat up, adjusting his glasses. “No matter how many times you go over it, it ain’t ever gonna stick.”

“Yes, it will,” Naoto insisted.

“Nah, I just ain’t smart en—”

“That’s not true!” Naoto cut him off.

Kanji blinked at her.

“I-I mean,” Naoto found herself stammering, “you are more than intelligent enough to…” She trailed off. _I’m phrasing that poorly, aren’t I?_ “You are certainly smart enough to master this material.”

Kanji didn’t speak for a long moment.

“You really think so?” Kanji seemed stunned.

Naoto felt heat spread across the bridge of her nose. She stood up sharply, focusing her gaze on the table.

“Y-yes. Of-of course. Y-you’re….” She hesitated. Why was it suddenly very hard to think? Or speak?

Or breathe?

She needed a beverage.

“Tea!” She exclaimed.

“What?”

“W-would you like some tea?” She looked at him again.

“Uh,” Kanji blinked again. “I-I mean, if you’re….”

“I would like a cup myself,” she clarified. “It will be of little effort to brew enough for two cups instead of one.”

“Uh, sure.” Kanji ruffled his black hair. “Thanks.”

Naoto gave a nod, but found herself suddenly unable to speak again.

She walked into the kitchen, setting up the teapot of water to boil. She pulled two of her travel mugs out of the nearby cupboard, placing a single tea bag in each.

She felt her phone vibrate in her jacket pocket. Naoto pulled it out, looking at the name of the person who had sent her a text so late at night.

_Rise-san, I’m sorry, but I do not have the time, nor the energy, tonight._

She frowned.

_I’ll respond in the morning._

The name was then replaced with the glowing time and date.

Naoto’s frown deepened.

One upside to the timing of her kidnapping the previous year meant that she hadn’t had to deal with _that_ anniversary. And, now, it was rapidly approaching.

Just another thing she didn’t want to deal with, especially in addition to all the Shadow-related mysteries building up as of late.

“Everythin’ all right?” Kanji’s voice caused her to start.

He was looking at her with a raised eyebrow, concern clear on her face.

“I am fine,” she said. “Rise-san has sent me a text message. I do not have the time for conversing with her tonight.”

“She’s gonna be pissed that ya blew her off,” Kanji said with a chuckle.

“I’ll inform her that the Team spent the night investigating the Shadow activity we’ve already informed her about,” Naoto said. “I believe she will forgive me.”

She noticed the teapot hiss from the boiling water. She used a heat mitt to carefully lift the teapot, pouring the water into each mug.

“Why those mugs?” Kanji asked. “I-I mean,” he stammered when she turned to look at him, “I’m just wonderin’ if there’s a reason ya ch-chose those two mugs instead of one of the ones ya usually use at—never mind.”

“Yes,” Naoto said. “I, er, I thought it would be best if we… stepped outside before midnight. If the Dark Hour starts again tonight, and Shadows do materialize, then it would be best to not have to fight in an enclosed space such as this.” She looked at him, handing him one of the mugs. “I also admit that I would prefer any such fight to have as limited a chance of damaging my belongings as possible.”

Kanji chuckled again.

“Yeah, that’d probably be a good idea.”

She fiddled with her own mug for a moment.

“Would you like s-sugar or milk?” She asked. “For your tea, I mean?”

“No thanks,” Kanji looked at his mug.

Naoto honestly preferred her tea with a small spoonful of sugar; much in the same way, she also preferred her coffee with sugar and milk. It just… wasn’t something she was eager to admit.

The fact that she usually went without either in her morning coffee probably did little to help her case on that front, anyway. Besides, she found that drinking her coffee black helped the caffeine kick in a little faster and—despite her obsession with arriving at any location, such as school, ahead of her scheduled time—she was certainly not a morning person.

“Sh-shall we?” She said, motioning in the general direction of the front of the apartment. “It shall be midnight in a few minutes.”

“Oh,” Kanji said, as if he’d only just noticed himself. “S-sure, yeah. Sounds good.” He led the way out of the kitchen and to the front door—grabbing their coats along the way.

The moon was clearly visible in the cloudless sky above the apartment building. The waxing crescent was thin—it had been a new moon the night before—but the light still reflected off of it in an almost bold manner.

Naoto felt as if it were defying her in some way.

She led Kanji down the stairs and into the small parking lot. She pulled out her cell phone again, bringing up an analog clock.

“It’ll be midnight in a few moments.” She said, taking a sip of her tea.

Kanji leaned in to watch the second hand as it made its way around one more time. Naoto felt her throat close.

_It’s just the dread_ , she told herself. _The Dark Hour is a highly unpleasant…._

Then all three hands moved towards the midnight hour.

The screen instantly went dark, illuminating the green crescent in the sky above it.

 

…

…

 

Mitsuru was more than a little frustrated at herself. She shouldn’t have cut it so closely, but….

_But_ , she reminded herself, _it would have been far too suspicious if I left too soon after that man did_.

She scowled, quickening her pace. She turned down another side street, walking past a series of houses. It had just been down this way, yes?

It was good that she’d only had the one drink—and that Mitsuru was quite capable of holding her liquor. It would be bad—to say the least—to have to fight a Shadow while drunk.

She stopped.

It would have been nice if the man had given her his name with his offer to cover her drink.

It was too late to worry about that, now, though. She had to get back to the others, or at least someplace more suitable to fight in, before—

The street went dark, the moonlight above turning green.

_Damn, I’m too late._

Her hand instinctively reached for her Evoker, currently kept hidden in an interior pocket of her coat.

“Mitsuru Kirijo,” a voice spoke, causing her to pull the gun-like object out of its holster.

_Another human? In the Dark Hour?_

“What a surprise, having you show up here, in quiet, little Inaba,” the voice—a man’s voice—continued. From where, Mitsuru couldn’t quite tell.

Should she try to contact Fuuka?

“Forgive me for not introducing myself,” the speaker walked out of a nearby alley, into the street. He turned towards her, taking a few steps so that his face was completely visible.

_The man from the bar!_

“You may call me Kasanoda,” he said in what sounded like a friendly tone—despite how it sent chills down Mitsuru’s spine. “Hayato Kasanoda. Or, whatever works for you; I’m not picky.”

_He really is conscious during the Dark Hour,_ Mitsuru’s mind raced. _But, Yamagishi said that she determined the other night that he’s definitely not a Persona-user. Could he have been trained to…._

_But, why?_

Kasanoda didn’t seem bothered by her silence; he simply stood there while she remained silent.

“Don’t worry about any stray Shadows,” he said after a long moment. “They’re not going to attack while I’m around. I kinda create a sort of black hole in their ability to sense humans or emotions; they’ll have no reason to even be interested in us, for now.”

_But, how?_ Mitsuru scowled. _Is that even really possible?_

“But, then,” Kasanoda added, “there won’t be any humans around to eavesdrop, either. Convenient, isn’t it?”

“You might have given me your name,” Mitsuru finally spoke, “but you still haven’t told me who you really are. Why are you able to enter the Dark Hour? Are you the one behind its return? What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Kasanoda asked with a mildly ominous smile. “I was hoping I might be able to have a word with you.” 


	11. Midnight

Pain.

It burned through its veins. Agony shook its lungs with every breath.

Everything was wrong.

It looked at its hands.

Or, it tried to.

The vague shapes of the twisted shadows in the near-pitch darkness weren’t exactly easy to make out.  

It took another ragged breath.

It couldn’t even remember anything beyond this moment.

Except for pain.

It roared in a vain attempt at release.

Maybe if it found something to take its misery out on….

But, the only life it could sense—soft, glowing green wells of energy in its otherwise dark and static-filled vision—was held just out of reach, encased in tall, unbreakable objects.

Dark, almost rectangular.

A word buzzed in the back of its head.

It _knew_ what these things were, but it couldn’t make the thought form.

It snarled, as the burning in its chest intensified.

It looked around, before slowly attempting to walk through its unclear surroundings. After staggering and losing balance a second time, it decided that navigating on all fours would be easier.

It still managed to trip on its own front limbs, stumbling headfirst into one of the tall objects. It yelped, the force of the impact vibrating through its entire body. It shook its head.

Out. It needed to get out.

It realized it was trapped in some sort of enclosure.

It didn’t care.

It just wanted out.

It could feel the faint flow of air coming from one direction in particular.

Fresh air meant outside, right?

It lunged towards the source—a _door_ , its mind drug the word out of the sea of pain—and knocked the barrier wide open.

It stumbled into the outside world— _street_ , the word floated into its conscious—it was in a street.

Its chest still burned. It exhaled slowly with a low growl.

Its vision was greatly improved with the change of surroundings. The street was lined with large objects— _buildings_ —and there were a small number of those tall objects encasing life energy scattered around.

And, just like the ones in the building it had just been in, these cases were just as unresponsive.

It growled again, scratching at one out of frustration.

A new scent caught its attention.

It turned, gazing down the street behind it.

There was a faint blue light glowing in the distance.

It exhaled slowly again. It then started charging on all fours in a mad dash, something new filling its chest.

_Excitement_.

 

…

…

 

Chie looked up at the sky with a frown.

“Yeeeeep.” She sighed to herself. “It’s still creepy.”

The slender crescent moon glowed with a yellow-green light down upon the town, surrounded by clouds tinted a sickly green.

_It’s better than everything being red again. And, everything’s not weird-looking, like some sort of sick cartoon._

Chie hummed to herself.

Regardless, this wasn’t going to be a _pleasant_ night. That was for sure.

_It’s like one of those really bad horror flicks Yukiko keeps tricking me into watching with her,_ she thought, gazing at the moon. _Though, the moon is usually orange or red in those. And, there’s usually some creep who sneaks up from be—_

A hand clasped her shoulder.

Chie gave a short scream, jolting out of the grip and turning to face—

“Yukiko!” She breathed. “Don’t… do that… please.”

“I’m sorry, Chie,” Yukiko seemed to be holding back one of her laughing fits.

Chie shrugged slightly, before continuing back down the sidewalk. Yukiko quickly caught up, walking alongside her friend.

“Do you think we’ll ever have a term of school _without_ freaky stuff happening again?” Chie asked after a long moment. How on earth was Yukiko so calm, with the sky all green and the tall, coffin-like objects sporadically dotting the town around them?

At least those weren’t around during the incident in May. The townspeople had simply vanished.

Or, maybe that was creepier; Chie couldn’t decide.

“Maybe winter term will be quieter,” Yukiko said. “Or, maybe things will calm down after we graduate.”

Chie frowned.

“Yeah….” She wasn’t convinced. “Considering the fact that Mitsuru-san and the others were _still_ caught up in all of this, even though they graduated years ago, I’m not gonna hold my breath.”

“We just have to think positively,” Yukiko said brightly. “At least we’ll always have each other.”

Chie blinked at her, before smiling.

“That’s right!” Her pace lightened. “The Team—we’ll always be friends!”

Yukiko laughed.

“Some of us more than others.”

Chie pointedly looked away, trying to ignore the heat rising on her face.

“Sp-speaking of which,” she said, pulling on her track jacket, “when do you plan on telling the others? I hate keeping secrets from them.”

Now it was Yukiko’s turn to blink and smile. Or—Chie decided—perhaps _smirk_ was a better term.

“When do you plan to tell them?” Yukiko asked.

The heat on Chie’s face deepened. She kept her gaze focused firmly on the sidewalk, just in front of her.

“I, uh….” Chie rubbed at one arm. “It’s not that simple.”

Yukiko nodded once.

“Right,” Chie said softly. She understood now. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. I wish it _was_ that easy.”

“It should be.”

They both stopped.

“You know,” Yukiko said, “for a time that Shadows are supposed to appear and roam around looking for victims, this Dark Hour doesn’t seem to have any Shadows at all.” She almost sounded disappointed.

“Jeez, Yukiko,” Chie said with a nervous chuckle. “Don’t jinx it, alright?”

They looked at each other for a long moment, before laughing.

A laugh that was cut short by the sound of—something—roaring.

“I’m so sorry,” Yukiko said in a small voice.

“It’s cool.” Chie shrugged. “But, what…?”

A very large— _thing_ —ran past them, down the intersecting road, snarling loudly as it did. Nearly pure black and bestial in shape, they could distinguish no further details about it before it vanished into the night again.

But, it was definitely a Shadow.

Chie looked at Yukiko. They nodded at each other. Yukiko pulled out her fan, the edge lined in a peacock design. Chie tapped the toe of one of her heavy boots against the pavement beneath her feet.

“It’s headed right towards…” Yukiko started. 

“Well, then,” Chie said, hopping back and forth, from one foot to the other. “We’ll just have to go help them out, won’t we?”

Yukiko nodded, and they took off after the Shadow.

_Please… be okay…._

 

…

…

 

Yosuke twirled a kunai in one hand, while fiddling with his cell phone in the other. The latter was a useless motion, of course. Nothing electronic worked during the Dark Hour.

_You didn’t text me back before midnight._ His scowl deepened.

“What’s wrong, Yosuke?” Teddie’s voice broke his thoughts.

“Besides _everything_?” He motioned at the sky above him. “Nothing.”

“I don’t understand.” Teddie pouted.

_And that’s mostly my fault_ , Yosuke put his phone back in his pocket. He sighed.

“Don’t worry about it.” He pulled out his other kunai, giving it a light spin in his palm. “Let’s just keep moving.” He zipped his jacket closed, briefly regretting his decision to keep his hair cut shorter. _My neck’s cold_ , he rubbed at it with the back of one hand.

They kept walking down the sidewalk, with Yosuke keeping a brisk pace.

“I don’t understand why we’re out here, either,” Teddie said, pulling on his own bright pink jacket. “I thought the Dark Hour was supposed to be dangerous.”

“It is,” Yosuke said. “That’s why we’re out here. If someone is awake during this,” he tapped lightly on a nearby coffin with one kunai as they passed it, “then they could be in a lot of danger. Though,” Yosuke grimaced again, “we haven’t seen a single Shadow, yet.”

_Unless Teddie counts,_ he added to himself. _And, in this case, he most likely doesn’t._

“Why couldn’t we have met up with the others?” Teddie asked, flexing the hand wearing the claw weapon he used in combat. “This would be a lot less scary if Yuki-chan or Chie-chan were here.” He paused. “Or Nao-chan.”

“Tell me about it,” Yosuke grumbled, looking briefly at the moon. “And, bear?”

“Hmm?”

“You probably shouldn’t call Naoto-kun ‘Nao-chan.’” He twirled his kunai again. _Though, you are the only person she refers to without an honorific. Well, and her grandfather, too, but he probably doesn’t really count._

“Why?”

_Man, this bear’s asking all the questions tonight_ ….

“Just… think about it, okay? I’ll… explain later.”

_The entire Team can tell she’s upset about something. Girl’s mind might be a mystery, but even I can see_ that _. I just… have no way of figuring out what it is. And if I try to force it out of her, I’ll likely just make her clam up harder instead._

_Come to think of it, Yukiko’s acting weird lately, too…._

“I’m hungry,” Teddie said.

Yosuke sighed again, before smiling.

“I know. Tell you what, keep the questions to a minimum, and you can have my pudding when we get home.”

“Really?” Teddie’s blue eyes lit up. “You’re the best, Yosuke!” The bear nearly tackled him to the ground with a forceful hug.

“Yeah, yeah….” Yosuke shrugged him off.

“So, can I ask who you were texting before the Dark Hour started?” Teddie looked at him. “Was it Sensei? Did you tell him that we all miss him beary much?”

Yosuke’s face paled.

“Shut up and keep walking, bear,” Yosuke grumbled, hunching over as he kept walking down the sidewalk.

Teddie made a confused noise, before shuffling along behind the third-year.

_Yeah, things_ would _be easier if Partner was here. He always seemed to know exactly what to do, and when._

He frowned uneasily to himself.

_And, then, maybe I wouldn’t be so confused about what—_

Yosuke stopped, turning sharply to look across the street.

“What is it, Yosuke?”

“Someone’s watching us,” Yosuke said in as low of a voice as he could manage.

“Who?”

“If I knew,” Yosuke said, “I wouldn’t be….”

He heard the sound of someone running.

“Follow me,” he said softly, before running across the street. Once again, he was thankful that Teddie was sticking to his human form more and more lately. That costume squeaked with every step, eliminating any real chance at stealth.

It was also just really freaking annoying.

Yosuke twirled the kunai in his hands again in anticipation as he ran over the opposite sidewalk into the nearby alley. Now in nearly-complete darkness, he had to slow his pace, while still trying to listen for the sound of the footsteps trying to flee. He turned sharply several times to follow the noise.

_C’mon, slow down,_ he thought as he took a few more turns through the dark alleys. _I just wanna talk_.

They were running, which likely meant one of two things. They were an enemy who didn’t want to fight—probably because they didn’t know if they were outmatched or not. Or, they weren’t an enemy, but didn’t want to be caught or even clearly seen—maybe because they weren’t sure if he was friendly or not.

There was a third option, of course, but it made Yosuke’s gut churn.

That someone was spying on him. On the Team.

He didn’t know how to protect them against that. How to act against it.

It was easier to just hope that it wasn’t the case. He had enough things to worry about at the moment. If he stretched himself out any further….

Yosuke stopped.

Teddie barreled into his back, knocking him forward a few, staggering steps. He managed to keep relatively upright, however, muttering a few curses under his breath.

“Where?” Yosuke started. The footsteps had stopped completely. His eyes were starting to hurt from trying to see in the low light from the altered crescent moon above. “Where did you go?” _Damn it, Rise would be really helpful right now—!_ “Hey!” Yosuke cut himself off. “Teddie! Can you smell anyone?”

“Can I… smell anyone?” He could just make out the bear blinking at him. “Sure, I can smell lots of people. Even some that aren’t turned into those black things.”

_Yes!_ Yosuke thought. _I wish I’d thought of that sooner, but—_

“But,” Teddie continued, “the smells are all messed up; I can’t tell where any of them are coming from. Even yours, Yosuke, and I can see you.” He paused. “Am I sick?”

Yosuke sighed.

“No, you’re fine,” he said. “The Dark Hour’s probably just messing everything up. Like it did last time.”

“But, Yosuke,” Teddie pointed out, “it was the red fog that made my nose go—”

“Whatever,” Yosuke interrupted. “Just…. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out….” He walked down the alley, back out to the street. He looked at a nearby wall, grimacing at the sight of the blood-like substance oozing down it. Teddie whimpered softly.

_This is certainly freaking_ me _out…._

“Come on, Ted,” Yosuke started down the sidewalk. “Let’s go check on—”

Something _big_ tore by, speeding down the street, causing Yosuke to freeze mid-sentence, nearly dropping his kunai.

“What.” He forced himself to remember how breathing worked. Once he restarted, he turned sharply to look in the direction the _thing_ had run down. “What was that?”

“I think it was a Shadow.”

“No, really?” Yosuke looked at him. “I mean… I’ve never seen one like _that_ before.”

His first thought was one of the Beast types, but it was far too big—the size of a delivery truck, at least—and clearly didn’t have the hindrance of a ball-and-chain. Either way, it was clearly bad news, and obviously focused on something particular if it just ignored—

“I had to think it!” Yosuke yelled, as he saw the strange Shadow speeding back towards him. It was likely a delayed reaction on its end, but it was irrelevant now. “Ready, Ted?”

“Yeah!”

Yosuke focused his mind, twirling one kunai as he felt the familiar surge of energy. Blue light emerged from a circle forming on the ground around him, a glowing card materializing less than a meter from his face.

The Magician.

“Susano-o!” He shouted, striking the card with one kunai. Upon contact, the card shattered in a burst of even brighter light.

“Bear-sona!” Teddie yelled, striking a card of his own with his claws.

When the light faded, their Persona were visible, floating above them: A blue-clad humanoid with red, windswept hair and shades and a robot designed after a cartoonish bear’s face, respectively.

The Shadow was something vaguely beast-like—a sort of cross between a panther and a black bear, though with what appeared to be horns emerging in a pair of rows along its skull, and its pitch-black body pulsating as if made of sludge. Its glowing red eyes narrowed at the Personas as it slid to a halt. It lowered its body, swiping its whip-like tail back and forth, growling in a deep tone that rumbled through the empty night air.

“It’s not acting like a normal Shadow,” Yosuke said, tilting his head in confusion. “It’s acting more like… some kinda wild animal.”

As if in response, the Shadow roared at them, revealing a single row of white fangs.

“Oh, you wanna play?” Yosuke said under his breath. “Then, let’s play!” He focused again, and Susano-o charged at the shadow. “Garudyne!”

Green wind erupted from the ground around the Shadow. It roared in pain as it swirled around it for a moment, before vanishing.

“Kamui!” Teddie shouted. “Bufudyne!”

Ice materialized around the Shadow, completely encasing it, before shattering.

The Shadow screamed—a cat-like sound—shaking its head back and forth.

“Yeah!” Yosuke remembered this part—beating a Shadow back into dust with just a few well-placed spells. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to have that energy surge through his muscles, leaving his fingertips tingling with anticipation for his next move.

If only his headphones worked during the Dark Hour, then he’d—

The Shadow gave another roar, this one far louder than it previous ones. Yosuke clasped his ears, feeling the sound vibrate through him. Pressure built up in his skull.

Susano-o and Kamui vanished in bursts of static.

Yosuke and Teddie fell to their knees with strangled yelps of pain.

“Crap,” Yosuke wheezed. _Silence. I can’t… summon…._

The Shadow roared, leaping towards them with its claws raised.

_Shit!_

A white-and-silver blur materialized overhead, just before flames exploded across the Shadow’s face.

The Shadow collapsed backwards. It shook its head back and forth, making a sound halfway between a whine and a snarl, tossing cinders throughout the street.

_Amaterasu?_ Yosuke recognized the Persona floating between him and the Shadow. _But, that means—!_

He turned to see Yukiko and Chie standing a few meters behind him, the steel-clad samurai-like Persona floating in the air behind them. _Suzuka-Gongen_ , Yosuke identified it, slowly staggering to his feet.

Relief washed over him.

“Chie!” Yukiko shouted, raising her hand, opening her fan in front of her face.

“Ready, Yukiko!” Chie nodded, lifting her own hand to be parallel with her friend’s.

Amaterasu floated back, joining Suzuka-Gongen. They lifted their blades, crossing them together behind their human summoners’ backs.

Yosuke knew this move.

This was exactly why he needed them to work together tonight.

A golden dragon materialized, its serpentine body circling around the confused Shadow. Cherry blossom petals fell out of nowhere, raining on the black beast. A burst of soft pink light exploded from the middle of the dragon’s circle.

_Twin Dragons_ , Rise had called it once. It was a fitting name.

The Shadow screamed again.

It stumbled backwards, shaking its head again. It whined loudly, and its chest heaved visibly with each breath. It walked back and forth for a moment, before it turned and ran down the street.

“Well, that was easy,” Chie said with a grin. “I thought the Dark Hour was supposed to be dangerous.” She looked at Yukiko for a moment, before stumbling forward slightly.

“Chie!” Two voices called out in unison.

“I haven’t called my Persona in a while.” She waved them off. “I’m fine, I promise. Just got a little winded.”

“Using that attack right off the bat probably didn’t help.” Yosuke walked over to them. “Actually, how are you feeling, Yukiko?”

“Perfectly fine, Yosuke-kun.” She smiled. “Are you and Teddie all right?”

“Uh,” Yosuke started.

“We’re fine now that you’re here, Yuki-chan!” Teddie’s voice practically trilled as he leapt towards her for a hug.

Yukiko took a single step to the right, and the bear caught nothing but air between his arms.

_Instant reflexes, and she’s not even winded from chasing down and fighting off that Shadow like that._ A chill went down Yosuke’s spine. _Chie might be scary—especially when she’s angry—but Yukiko-san’s_ terrifying.

“Guys?” Yosuke spoke up. “Not to ruin the moment, or anything. But. That Shadow is now headed straight for the apartment building Naoto lives in.”

“But… they’d be at Kanji-kun’s, wouldn’t they?” Yukiko asked. “Naoto-kun doesn’t generally invite people over to her apartment alone.” She looked at Chie. “Right?”

“Uh…” Chie stammered. “M-maybe?” She hesitated. “I mean, she _did_ ask me something weird this morning about—”

Yosuke made a loud, incoherent sound.

“I really would rather not have any images in my head.” He twirled his kunai for the umpteenth time. “Besides, if they are at her apartment, there’s a chance they’ll need our help.”

“Come to think of it,” Yukiko said, holding Teddie back with one hand as the bear continued his attempts to embrace her. “Wasn’t that Shadow smaller when we first saw it, Chie?”

“Huh?” Chie blinked. “Yeah—I guess it was. That’s weird.”

“That’s really bad!” Yosuke started waving his arms up and down. “Kanji might be a powerhouse, but Naoto can’t take anywhere near as much damage as he can! _Come on!_ ” He started running again, as fast as he could manage.

“Y-Yosuke!” He heard Chie called after him. “She’s not helpless, you sexist idiot!”

_I_ know _that!_ Yosuke didn’t wait to see if they were following. _But, if this thing is getting bigger, then it’s probably getting stronger, too._ The thought of its roar Silencing his Persona sent a deep chill down his spine. Without their Personas, they would—

An image flashed before Yosuke’s mind—Kanji keeling on the ground, a small, broken, bleeding body in his arms.

Yosuke’s chest seized.

_No! No, I can’t let that happen!_

_Take care of them for me, all right, Yosuke?_ A familiar voice echoed in his head.

He slammed his eyes shut, somehow managing to run faster.

_I have to save them!_

 

…

…

 

“Partially developed?” Mitsuru echoed.

“More or less,” Kasanoda said, waving one hand. “The important part is that the Shadow is extremely unstable.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, for one,” the man placed both of his hands, “it will be nearly impossible to defeat without using Almighty attacks continuously for a significant amount of time.”

“Why?”

They were still standing in the street, several meters from each other, just able to make out their faces in the Dark Hour’s moonlight. Kasanoda’s knit cap was pulled down to just above his eyebrows, his dark jacket obscuring nearly the full length of his body. Mitsuru kept her Evoker firmly gripped in her hand, ready at a moment’s notice, and focused her gaze on the man.

There was no chance she was letting him trick her.

“Part of its attempts to stabilize seem to include regeneration.” He looked at a nearby lamppost, despite the fact it was off.

“Regeneration?”

“Part of its creation included… a lot of… pain.” He shifted back and forth between his feet, not looking at her. “It would always regenerate back to a baseline state. It also cannot get ill by conventional means.”

“You keep using the pronoun ‘it,’” Mitsuru pointed out. “Previously you used—”

“At the current moment,” Kasanoda interrupted her, “the Shadow has no solid personality or identity. This will continue to happen until it is either able to stabilize or….” He coughed once. “It cannot feel or choose an identity of its own, so I will refer to it with as generic as terminology as I can. I will not—even theoretically—impose a gender on it, for example, be if male, female, neither, or something in-between.”

“What do you mean, it has no personality?” Mitsuru asked. “You said your superiors used a Plume to create it.”

“True, but it escaped before it could finish developing, as I mentioned. Its mind is trapped in a sort of limbo, capable of intelligent thought, but its ability to _feel_ in the way a person would, its true humanity, are locked away.”

“It remembers being human, though.”

“That,” he looked at her, “I do not know. I can’t say what it does and does not remember. I do know that part of the procedure included rewriting some knowledge and memories with new ones, and erasing others.”

“A rewrite of personality.” Mitsuru understood.

“More or less.”

“Why?” Mitsuru asked. “What does your superior want? Is he trying to create a… a deranged pet? A bodyguard? A super soldier? Is he planning some sort of bid for dominance?”

“No.” Kasanoda lowered his voice. “I’m actually not entirely sure of his end goal, but I do know that he cares nothing for this world; he would have no interest in controlling much—if any—of it.”

“The reports showed that there were a number of kidnapping theorized to be connected,” Mitsuru said, “but not a single one occurred in Japan. Were they—?”

“I don’t have direct access to those records,” Kasanoda interrupted again. “But, I’d venture a guess that at least most of them _were_ sanctioned by my… employer. And that the… victims were taken to our scientists in one of our several labs, here in Japan.” He paused. “I can confirm that none of the… subjects were taken from Japan, nor were any of them Japanese—at least, not judging upon appearance.”

“Why?”

“Because my… employer is racist,” he said simply. “And, unfortunately, he knows that not only he is, but that many, many others are equally prejudiced, in different ways, in other countries. He had his… agents work… subtly. Victims were chosen by those that would be least likely to… incite a full-scale search, so to speak.” He was clearly uncomfortable. “They might have been reported, but they would soon be lost in the system, or forgotten by an authority system that prioritizes people by….” He sighed. “He’s a bastard, and he knows how to manipulate other bastards.”

_Which explains why Akira-san was among those he targeted. A homeless girl, of what I recall being an ethnical minority for her home nation. Her case would be forgotten about nearly instantly. If her disappearance was reported at all._

Mitsuru frowned. It was… an abhorrent plan, to say the least.

“So, then, the Dark Hour is being brought back by your employer?”

Kasanoda laughed.

“No.” He shook his head. “In fact, my… co-worker is lucky.”

“Co-worker?”

“I was one of three agents sent to Inaba to observe and retrieve the subject. A woman, a man, and myself.” He paused. “Though, the man might actually….” He shook his head. “Never mind. The woman is almost certainly the one who has activated the Dark Hour. She is fortunate that it does not extend far past Inaba; if my employer knew, she’d be… terminated.”

“He would kill her for her insubordination,” Mitsuru translated. “Pretty quick to punish, for a man with a limited number of followers.”

“One, this action places all of us at risk of discovery by… well, by you, Kirijo-san.” He smirked, before his face sobered. “Also, my employer has not killed anyone himself—to my knowledge—in the better part of a decade.”

“How is she causing the Dark Hour?” Mitsuru asked.

“I’m not really sure how it works,” Kasanoda said. “I never got a real education to start with, and hanging around the scientists never interested me—assuming they even know how their machines work in the first place. They probably don’t.” He cleared his throat. “There are one of two types of devices she could be using, though. One, is sort of an instant Hour. It starts the Dark Hour almost instantly upon activation. I highly doubt she’s using this, as the Hour is starting exactly at midnight, as has for three consecutive nights. She’s not… patient enough to manage that. It is far more likely that she is using one that—once active—will cause the Dark Hour to appear at its… natural time until the device is turned off or destroyed.”

“And, it only affects Inaba?”

“It has a limited range, so I’d estimate that this version of the Dark Hour only extends a short distance beyond the city limits.”

“Why have there been few—if any—Shadows beyond the one? The Dark Hour didn’t spawn entire swarms on Tatsumi Port Island—outside of Tartarus—but they still appeared in significant numbers.”

“I honestly don’t know.” Kasanoda shrugged his shoulders. “Like I said, I don’t really know _how_ this works, just that it _does_.”

“When will she stop using it?” Mitsuru tightened her grip on her Evoker.

“When the subject stabilizes or a… severe enough incident occurs that we must… abandon it.”

“If such an incident were to occur…?”

“The man I mentioned before is, as far as I’ve learned, a Persona-user.” He paused, while Mitsuru’s eyes widened. “Forcibly awakened, of course, but it’s still relatively powerful. I do not know its abilities, but I know that he will not permit for any evidence to remain to allow anyone to discover our employer.”

“What evidence would he eliminate, specifically?”

The man looked at the ground.

“Inaba.”

_That would be bad_ , Mitsuru established the obvious.

“So, we need to get the Shadow to stabilize?”

“No,” Kasanoda shook his head. “My... co-workers think that is all that needs done, but I believe I’ve discovered a method to rescue the subject and save a lot of lives.”

“What about the Shadow? And the Dark Hour?”

“If I could delay the process long enough, I would suggest using an Evoker to….” He trailed off. “But, it’s far too risky to attempt. I need more time to uncover more information, but I think I can find a method to deal with the Shadow and save the subject without risking anyone else’s life. Or, at least, as few lives as possible.”

“You expect me to just let you go?” Mitsuru asked.

“You don’t have much of a choice,” Kasanoda said. “I’m already risking far more lives than my own, just by talking to you now. And, the woman cannot experience the Dark Hour.”

“So, why is it a risk?” She asked. “Who are you, exactly?”

Kasanoda sighed.

“I’ll give you the short version.”

 

…

…

 

Naoto took one last sip from her mug of tea, before exhaling slowly.

“Sh-should we take a walk around?” Kanji asked. He stood on the other side of her moped in the far end of the apartment parking lot. “Y-ya know, make sure ev-everything’s okay?”

_He’s even more on edge than he was five minutes ago._ Naoto blinked at him. A pointless act, as his back was turned to her. _Or, perhaps he’s colder than he’s allowing himself to admit. Either way…_

“You mean, patrol the surrounding neighborhoods?” Naoto asked. “And observe if any Shadows have materialized?”

“O-or if anyone’s awake.” Kanji nodded. “That thing ya sent us—it said that normal people some-sometimes are awake durin’ this.” He motioned towards the moon. “If they are, they gotta be freakin’ out right now.”

“Yes.” Naoto placed her mug down on the ground next to her bike. “They would also be at risk from any Shadows that may appear.” She had initially planned on staying near her apartment—if a Shadow formed relatively nearby, it should be attracted by the presence of two exposed humans—Persona users, no less. But, perhaps staying in one place would keep them out of the range of notice.

It ultimately depended on how wide that range was, and where the others currently were in Inaba.

“Man,” Kanji sighed. “We should’a stayed at my place. We could’a checked on Naoki.”

“I’m certain that Naoki-kun is perfectly—” She cut herself off.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Kanji turned slightly to look at her.

She took a few steps towards the nearby street. Kanji placed his mug down before following her.

“There is something approaching,” Naoto said, staring down the street, into the darkness.

“A Shadow?” Kanji asked.

“That would be a highly likely outcome, yes,” Naoto said. “I apologize,” she hesitated. “I did not permit you time to bring a weapon to—”

“Nah,” Kanji cut her off. “Don’ worry about it. Rokuten Maoh’ll be good.”

“…Yes,” Naoto finally said. She looked at the ground, before drawing her revolver. _I’m supposed to be better than this. This entire endeavor was poorly contemplated on my part._ She felt the pressure in the back of her skull increase.

They could now definitely see _something_ , as it ran down the street towards them.

Something quadrupedal in build.

Something far too colossal in size for an ordinary Shadow.

“Evoke,” Naoto said.

Kanji nodded, not even looking at her. He took several steps forward, before raising a fist, arm level with the ground. Light shone around him as his tarot card materialized above his outstretched hand.

The Emperor.

“Persona.”

He punched the card in a solid uppercut, shattering it in another burst of light.

The tall, bright crimson robot materialized behind him, brandishing its sword in a ready stance.

Naoto took a deep breath, focusing her thoughts.

She raised her gun.

And nothing happened.

_What?_ Naoto blinked. Her chest tightened. _Why—?_

She tightened her grip on her pistol. She exhaled sharply as she attempted to force the familiar energy to flow again.

This time, she was rewarded with the appearance of her tarot card, about a meter in front of her. However, something seemed off about it.

She fired once, shattering it.

Her Persona flickered into view for a fleeting moment, before vanishing again in a burst of light.

Worse, it hadn’t appeared to be clad in primarily white… instead appearing far more… blue.

“Naoto?” Kanji looked back. “Somethin’ up?”

She blinked at him for a moment. What was she supposed to say?

“Not at all,” she settled on. “It’s… just been a while.”

She took another deep breath.

_I am Naoto Shirogane. Detective. Second-year at Yasogami High. Member of the Investigation Team. Worthy successor to the Shirogane name._

The familiar circle of light shone around her this time, as her card reappeared.

The Wheel of Fortune.

Naoto raised her pistol again.

“Persona!”

She fired.

Yamato-Takeru materialized, white uniform tinted green in the abnormal moonlight. He drew his sword, readying himself in a manner not unlike his current combat companion.

“Looks like we’re just in time,” Kanji said with a dry laugh.

The Shadow slid to a stop mere meters away. It gave a loud roar at the humans—and their Personas—before it.

Naoto felt a sharp pressure in the back of her skull again, but quickly shook it off.

“Angry, ain’t ya?” Kanji glared at it. “Ya big, ugly bastard.”

It snarled at him in response.

“Whadaya say we give ‘im a little jolt?” Kanji smirked at her.

Naoto took a step forwards to be even with him.

“That is an excellent suggestion.” She gave him a small smile of her own.

They looked at the Shadow.

“Ziodyne!”

Both Personas stabbed the ground with their respective blades, sending bolts of electricity across the ground until they hit the beast.

The Shadow screamed in agony. It stumbled forward slightly, before it leapt at them, raising its front limb in preparation.

Rokuten Maoh blocked the swipe with his sword.

“No, ya ain’t!” Kanji pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “Don’t give ‘im time ta breathe!” He punched a fist in the air in front of him.

In response, Rokuten Maoh knocked the Shadow back, causing it to awkwardly shuffle as it attempted to steady itself. Before it could accomplish that, however, Kanji’s Persona was attacking again, striking the Shadow’s head with his weapon. The blade slid—apparently effortlessly—into the beast’s forehead.

The Shadow screamed again.

The red Persona removed its blade. The Shadow knelt forward, to the ground, placing both of its front limbs over its head. It made a long sound, halfway between a growl and a whine.

It was a highly unusual Shadow, of that much Naoto was certain. Regardless, it was still an aggressive Shadow, thus it was dangerous and needed to be defeated.

_Let’s end this._ Naoto narrowed her eyes. “Hamaon!”

Yamato-Takeru raised his blade, and a glowing, intricate white circle formed on the ground around the shadow. A burst of light surged upwards from it, before the circle vanished again.

The Shadow raised its head again, tilting it at Naoto.

“Ineffective,” Naoto said. “I should have expected as much.”

“’S’all right,” Kanji said with a chuckle. “It’s not as much fun if ya just get ‘em with one blow like that.”

“Regardless,” Naoto said, “we must defeat this Shadow before it causes damage to the surrounding neighborhood.” _Presuming it hasn’t done so already._ “Yamato-Takeru!” She called to her Persona.

The uniform-clad figure flew at the beast, slicing at it several times with its sword, each strike hitting true.

_Vorpal Blade._ Naoto felt the surge of energy quickly replace itself with one of exhaustion—the cost of such an attack.

The Shadow yelped, staggering further backwards.

Naoto fell to one knee. That attack had taken more out of her than she’d expected.

“Yo, you all right?” Kanji looked at her.

“I am fine.” She kept her voice level. “It has simply been a while since we’ve engaged in combat. Using my Persona’s abilities has its costs.”

“Right.” Kanji looked away.

There were only two forms of attack that did not cost her energy—mentally or physically. Three, if one counted the usage of special items that Yu had somehow gathered during the murder case. She could attack the Shadow directly with her pistol. That was not an option; unlike when she evoked her Persona—the process inexplicably consumed the bullet—firing upon the Shadow would run the risk of missing and ricocheting. If discovered, a stray bullet would cause an avalanche of problems, for her and for the entirety of the Inaba Police Department.

The only other way to attack without direct cost was—

“Kanji!” A voice cut through her thoughts. “Naoto!”

Yosuke ran up to them from the same direction the Shadow had a few minutes prior.

“Yosuke-senpai?” Naoto gaped at him. “You—you’re supposed to—!” Yosuke lived halfway across town. How’d he get here so fast?

Why was he—?

_Stupid question_ , Naoto scolded herself. _He clearly witnessed this Shadow, and pursued it. Its speed meant that it would take time for him to catch up._

“Ah… man,” Yosuke said, leaning over slightly as he caught his breath. “You’re… you guys… you’re… okay.”

“’Course we’re okay,” Kanji sounded insulted. “Ya think a single Shadow’s gonna beat _us?_ ”

Naoto pulled on the brim of her hat.

“Senpai,” she said. “You needn’t concern yourself over….” She trailed off.

Before anyone could speak further, the Shadow gave another roar. It turned, facing Yosuke, and leapt at him.

“Aw, crap!” He rolled out of the way, just in time.

The Shadow attempted to stop, but its momentum caused it to collide into the ground. It tripped into a jumbled heap.

“Perfect!” Yosuke tossed one kunai in the air, before catching it. “Hey!” He shouted to them. “Now’s our chance! You ready?”

Kanji shouted a confirmation, while Naoto stood up with a nod.

She’d forgotten a fourth attack option: ganging up on the enemy and striking it repeatedly with whatever weapons they had.

“Good answer!” Yosuke’s grin was clear, even in the low light of the Dark Hour.

The three teenagers charged the fallen Shadow, brutally beating on it with their current manner of attack: Yosuke’s kunai, Kanji’s fists, with Naoto giving the beast a solid whip with the handle of her pistol before landing a solid kick to the underside of its jaw.

The Shadow leapt to its feet, mewling in agony as it attempted to back away from them.

Naoto felt the energy pooling in her chest. The Shadow was still alive, despite them going all-out against it. The adrenaline from the attack surged with her Persona’s energy, and Naoto knew exactly how to expel it.

“Kanji-kun!” She shouted, quickly holstering her pistol.

“Ya got it!” Kanji caught on.

They ran towards each other, stopping mere centimeters away. They turned to look at the Shadow, backs nearly touching, and each raised one hand. Rokuten Maoh and Yamato-Takeru rose above them, crossing their blades. 

“Persona!” They shouted together.

Bones materialized out of the ground, surrounding the Shadow as a series of spikes. Electricity and light surged from the bones, hitting the Shadow in the middle.

The Shadow screamed once more.

Naoto glanced at Kanji; his face was an echo of the expression she knew she wore. Elation from the rush the attack’s energy gave them as it expelled itself.

_Adrenaline and endorphins_ , she reminded herself. _That’s… that’s all._

Regardless, they were both breathless for the moment.

The Shadow retaliated with a deafening roar.

Naoto collapsed to her knees, grasping at her ears. The pressure returned to her skull.

She felt her Persona shatter.

The shouts of pain from Kanji and Yosuke suggested theirs suffered the same.

_Silence_ , she identified the affliction. _It’s Silenced us; we can’t summon our Personas!_

Thankfully, however, the Shadow seemed to have had enough. She heard the sounds of it moving, but when she’d recovered enough to look up again, the Shadow was gone.

“What… was that?” Naoto slowly returned to her feet, declining an offer of assistance from Kanji. “That was no ordinary Shadow. It was nearly the size of a small building, and it’s behavior was—”

“Yeah,” Yosuke said. “I know. Chie and Yukiko said it was growing, and they were right; it was the size of a truck when it went by me and Ted.”

“YOOOOOSUKEEEEEEEE!” A voice yelled out, as if on cue.

Teddie, Chie, and Yukiko ran up to them from the same direction Yosuke had come from.

“Senpai!” Naoto stiffened, stepping quickly away from Kanji.

“You _beat_ that thing?” Chie didn’t seem to notice. “Yukiko and I only managed to scare it off!”

“Nah,” Kanji grumbled. “It ran away from us, too.”

“I do not think I am currently capable of pursuing it, however.” Naoto pulled on her hat, shielding her eyes from the others.

“Don’t worry,” Yosuke said. “It’s gonna vanish in a few minutes, anyway; the Dark Hour’s nearly over.”

“I thought we had it, too,” Kanji sounded disappointed.

“At least no one’s hurt,” Yukiko pointed out. “Right?”

“I’m good,” Kanji said, before glancing at Naoto.

“I am exhausted from the battle—and the presence of the Dark Hour has probably amplified it—but I am otherwise unharmed.”

“I’m just a little winded.” Yosuke looked at the ground.

“I _told_ you!” Chie punched Yosuke in the shoulder. “They can handle themselves just fine; that’s why they were teamed up tonight to start with!”

_Yosuke-senpai was concerned for us?_ Naoto blinked at him. She looked at the ground.

“I do not need protecting, Senpai.”

Yosuke grumbled an apology.

“A-anyway!” He recovered. “That’s not all Ted and I ran into tonight! Listen…”

 

…

…

 

“So, my choices were to either follow him, or to go to jail.” Kasanoda said simply.

“But, you were a child.” Mitsuru said.

“Exactly,” he said. “Children are easy to control, after all. I might have never been brainwashed, but I am trapped all the same.”

“So, you became your employer’s… personal servant?” Mitsuru guessed. “Bodyguard.”

“Spy’s a better term.” Kasanoda looked at the ground. “He sends me with teams every so often. My low official rank means they view me as a meaningless grunt. I can observe without suspicion and… if they betray or severely disobey my… employer….” He trailed off. “I am also his personal assassin.” He looked at her.

“So, you kill them.” Mitsuru tightened her grip on her Evoker. “That’s why he doesn’t kill people personally; it’s _your_ job.”

“More or less.” He looked away again. “Thankfully, it’s rare. But… I can’t leave now. Not only do I have nowhere to go, my employer would guarantee that the police found me. The evidence he has, I’d be sentenced to death.”

“Assuming I believe everything you’ve said,” Mitsuru said, “then explain to me why I should trust you in the slightest.”

“Because I am risking my life to talk to you, and to do everything I can to save an innocent person.”

“You could be lying.”

“I could.” Kasanoda nodded. “But, I’m not. I may be sworn to serve my… master in whatever manner is best, but I know that he is best served… in a shallow grave.”

“So, why not kill him yourself?”

“If it were that easy,” Kasanoda chuckled, “I’d have killed him as a teenager.”

“I still don’t trust you.”

“This is my responsibility.” He looked at her. “It’s my fault she’s here. I… I tried… I messed with the equipment.”

“You _what?_ ” Mitsuru breathed, lowering her Evoker. “You could have _killed—!_ ”

“You assume that wasn’t my goal.”

“You said you wanted to _save_ —!”

“And, now I do. But, back in the city….” He sighed. “They kept making her flat line, you know. I’m not sure why, but they would outright kill her, only to resuscitate her each time. Even if she wasn’t aware of it, it had to be agonizing. They were only going to do worse and worse things to her. I thought… I thought it was the only way out for her.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure. The scientists had some fancy things to say about readings of some sort. And something about the Plume of Dusk. But, all I really got was that something I did caused a domino effect that resulted in an explosion, her consciousness returning, and her escape.” He scoffed. “I’ve never tried to move that many people before…” Kasanoda grumbled to himself.

“Do you—?” Mitsuru started.

The sky returned to normal, cutting her off.

“Looks like our Hour’s up.” Kasanoda looked at the moon, white once more. “I’ll be leaving, then.”

“I’m not done with you, yet.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” Kasanoda turned anyway. “If I’m seen with you, we could both end up dead. I’d rather end this with as little bloodshed as possible.”

“And, how do you plan to do that?”

“I’m still working on it.” He started to walk away. “If you want to continue this interrogation, just have your friend with the scanning Persona send me a message when the Dark Hour starts again. I promise to come running like a good dog.” He laughed dryly.

“How—?”

“I’m very good at my job. Good night, Kirijo-san.” He vanished into the darkness of a nearby alley.

“Great.” Mitsuru sighed. “Yamagishi!” She breathed. “Can you still hear me?”

“Barely.” Fuuka’s voice was weak in Mitsuru’s mind. “I can’t properly use my Persona, now that the Dark Hour’s passed.”

“It’s all right. Can you meet with me and Aigis in five minutes? There are several things we need to discuss.”

“Of course, Mitsuru-senpai!” Fuuka’s voice came in stronger. “There’s something I need to tell you, as well.”

 

…

…

 

Kanji didn’t admit it, but he was exhausted and his muscles were aching from that fight. He had no idea how he had managed to walk home after the Team had exchanged info, let alone let himself in without making tons of noise.

_If I wake Ma,_ he stumbled through the door to the living room, _she’s gonna be pissed—_

His trail of thought was cut off by a light turning on.

His mother was sitting on the couch.

She didn’t speak at first, simply looking at her son with that almost-blank look. The one that made Kanji’s gut churn.

“M-Ma!” Kanji eventually stammered. He looked away, adjusting his glasses with a single finger. “Wh-what’re—?”

“It is after midnight, Kanji.”

“Y-yeah…”

“Would you care to explain what kept you out so late?”

“We were just studying, Ma.” He really wished that she’d lay off. “Just kinda… lost track of time.” They _had_ worked on school work nearly non-stop until midnight.

_The old cow’s not gonna buy that, ‘course_ , Kanji frowned to himself.

“Of course.”

He couldn’t tell if she was mad or amused.

Or which idea terrified him more.

“W-well,” he stammered, shuffling awkwardly towards the hall. “I-I’m gonna go to bed. School in mornin’.”

“I trust you, Kanji.” Her voice made him stop. “And, I trust Naoto-kun, too.”

“What?” He half-turned towards her. “Wha—We-we ain’t—!”

_Please, don’ give me_ that _lecture again…._

“I know.” She finally smiled, making his stomach turn cold. “Just… promise me that you aren’t trying to be someone you aren’t to….” She trailed off.

“I ain’t, Ma.” Kanji turned back around, lumbering to the stairs and up to his room.

His mother sighed, before standing up and turning off the light.


	12. Splintering

Rain fell nearly continuously throughout the next day. By mid afternoon, the pressure had built into a thunderstorm that felt as lazy as the half-exhausted students. The thunder rolled low and slow through the air, almost completely ignorable, and even the lightning didn’t leave the thick, dark grey cover, choosing to simply illuminate the clouds in short bursts.

Naoto frowned at the clouds from Yasogami’s doorway. She held her unopened umbrella in one hand.

“Hey, Naoto-kun,” Yosuke’s voice announced his approach. He walked up beside her. “You headin’ home?”

“Hello, senpai.” She didn’t look at him. “I was considering waiting for….” She trailed off.

Yosuke chuckled. Friendly as the gesture sounded, it still sent a chill through her internal organs.

“Weather kinda sucks, huh?” He changed the subject. “Maybe we should call up that friend of ours, see if she can get rid of it for us.”

“That would be counterproductive,” Naoto said. “We need stay alert for any information on… on what’s going on. F-from any source.” She glanced up at the third-year.

Yosuke blinked at her for a moment, before the realization dawned on his face.

The Midnight Channel.

Shadow activity in Inaba generally involved it, so if it was airing again, they’d need to be aware, and see what it had to show. That generally required rainfall.

Not to mention….

“Besides,” Naoto continued, “communicating with our… weather-inclined associate generally leaves me….” She paused, trying to find a suitable word. “Well….”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying,” Yosuke said. He chuckled. “She’s a, er, acquired taste. Even more than you are.”

“What?” Naoto narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you mean to imply….?”

“Naoto-kun, have you completely blanked out your first day at Yasogami?” Yosuke raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know who was more confused and frustrated after that, Rise or Kanji.”

“Why would _either_ of them have been confused?” It was Naoto’s turn to lift her eyebrow at him. “As I recall, I hardly interacted with the Team in general that day, nor was I in the same class as Rise-san _or_ Kanji-kun.”

Yosuke gave another chuckle, this one with a heavier hint of stress behind it.

“Uh… never mind,” Yosuke eventually said. He looked at her. “You waiting for Kanji or, uh, Naoki-kun, then?”

She blinked at him for a long moment. Yosuke sharply looked away, staring out the door at the rain again.

“I had considered it, yes. However, I don’t particularly relish the idea of being caught in a worsening—”

She cut herself off at the sound of students descending the staircase. They were laughing—in a rather loud and obnoxious manner—and their footsteps were heavy. From the pitch of their voices, they seemed male.

And—Naoto realized, her eyes widening a slight amount—uncomfortably familiar.

“Good evening, senpai.” Naoto gave him a quick nod, before quickly heading out the door. She opened her umbrella as she emerged out into the rain.

“H-hey!” Yosuke started to call after her, before the door closed on him.

She would have liked to remained behind a while longer—there were a few things she’d wanted to discuss further with Yosuke about the previous night—but Naoto had no desire to add another… confrontation to the list of problems she was currently dealing with.

Particularly while Yosuke was present, not if the third-year was suddenly being overprotective of the Team in general.

She decided that she would have to deal with the troublesome, intolerant third-year and his companions at a later date. She simply didn’t have the time—nor the energy—to devote to the issue for the time being.

She was _not_ avoiding anything, she insisted to herself.

Regardless, the sound of the rain against the umbrella above her did little to encourage any sort of positive thought. Nor did the slight chill it brought, which threatened to creep through her ineffective school jacket. Especially not with the previous night’s events and revelations still on her mind.

Yosuke had told them how he had encountered a potential spy watching him, and had been unable to confront or identify them before his pursuit had been interrupted by the aberrant Shadow the Team had encountered. The idea of someone conscious during the Dark Hour was enough to warrant her attention; the idea that they were spying on the Team—at any time—was horrifying. Especially when they had no way to really track or identify them.

Naoto had almost contacted Mitsuru when she had returned to her apartment after the Hour ended. Despite Yosuke’s decision—supported by the other third-years—to not do so, yet.

They had decided that if the ones who were observing them were members of the Shadow Operatives, then it was best that they didn’t confront Mitsuru too hastily. They had to make sure to not allow their emotions—however justified—to color such a conversation. Cooperation was far easier to secure when one approached the second party without accusation.

So, no. They were going to wait another day, for the stress from the fight to ease off.

Naoto’s gut churned as she recalled the fight against the Shadow. She stopped, the clouds above flashing with another surge of lightning that never quite left the storm’s cover.

That particular Shadow had been highly unusual; it had appeared to be half-formed, partway between the masked sludge that would initially pursue them through the various dungeons and the colorful menagerie of creatures they became during combat. It had also acted somewhat peculiarly, simultaneously acting of higher intelligence that the average Shadow—it had incapacitated them with Silence before escaping instead of simply attempting to run—but lower than that of the Shadows that had been borne of each of the Inaba Persona-users.

She hadn’t voiced it—mostly due to not wanting to create further stress or worry for the others—but Naoto suspected that the aberrant Shadow would return. Perhaps not with each Dark Hour, but she knew better than to believe they were done with it.

Which made another issue all the more pressing: her ability to evoke her Persona.

Or, more accurately, her difficulty in doing so.

Kanji had demonstrated no issue in summoning Rokuten Maoh. From what little cues she gleamed from their conversation with the rest of the Team after the fight, the others had suffered no difficulties, either.

So, that implied that only she suffered the dilemma, however briefly.

It would be easy to just brush it off with the excuse she’d given Kanji; it _had_ been a while since she’d evoked, and—according to Mitsuru and the other Shadow Operatives—it was more difficult to accomplish during the Dark Hour than in the TV world. The Operatives couldn’t even summon their Personas outside of the TV without the use of an Evoker.

There was no significant time difference from her previous summon to that of any of the others in Inaba.

So, what caused the difficulty, and why?

The second attempt flashed in her memory.

Had her Persona regressed, even if for only a moment? If so, why?

Naoto stopped, staring at the sidewalk a meter or so ahead.

She’d need to investigate to solve that mystery. But, how would she gather the necessary information…?

She looked up, before quickly shuffling sideways to lean against the convenience store’s wall. It was difficult to manage while still holding an umbrella against the rain, but she needed to get out of sight. She slowly peered around the building’s corner.

Across the intersection, a familiar figure stood under an umbrella, walking in away from the detective, their gaze in little to no risk of detecting her.

_Her_ , Naoto identified. _If I recall correctly, she is the support-based Persona user from the Shadow Operatives, one of the original companions of Mitsuru-san from Iwatodai._ She paused, attempting to recall the woman’s name. _Yamagishi? I believe that’s the name Misturu-san used._ She had only interacted with the young woman directly for a brief period, during the red fog incident the previous May.

But, Naoto knew that her scanning abilities were quite considerable, even permitting her to extend her power into the TV world without entering herself.

Which, logically, meant that it was next to impossible for Mitsuru to not be aware of the Dark Hour’s return. Between Aigis and Yamagishi, their combined ability meant that the only reasonable cause for them to not be would be if they were transfigured somehow.

Which was unlikely, unless this Dark Hour was meant to target only the Inaba Persona-users. Which would only open a new series of—admittedly terrifying—questions.

Naoto turned slightly, leaning back against the building and looking down at the ground near her feet.

She could attempt to spy on Yamagishi— _Fuuka_ , Naoto recalled the woman’s given name. But, that would run a risk of being caught. Especially since past events suggested that Fuuka could utilize her Persona’s abilities without either entering through a television or the presence of the Dark Hour. If she—or any of the other Operatives—caught Naoto shadowing her….

She glanced around the corner again.

Fuuka was no longer anywhere in sight.

_Well, that’s certainly one way to come to a decision._

If she came across her again, she’d readdress the dilemma.

_It’s not as if it would be the first time I preformed a low-key investigation on a Shadow Operative._

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth all the same. Spying on others made her uneasy, especially in the wake of the case that had brought her to Inaba in the first place. The fact that she had once observed the same people who ended up being her dear friends in such a manner—it caused a dull pain in her stomach. It had been—dehumanizing—of her.

She was better than this, now.

Her internal struggle was interrupted by another familiar figure emerging from the convenience store.

“Ah, Shirogane-san.” Mitsuru’s voice caused her to start.

Naoto blinked at her, eyes wide.

“M-Mitsuru-san!” She stood upright, away from the wall.

The older woman was dressed in a simple, black peacoat, white trousers and a pair of high-heeled black boots. She held a black umbrella in one hand, opening it as she walked out into the calm, but constant, rainfall.

“I was hoping to run into you,” she said quietly. “Digital communication may be… insecure at present.”

_That is what Yosuke-senpai was worried about,_ Naoto thought, nodding once. _It would appear that his worry was not_ wholly _unfounded, if nothing else._

“Do you have information, Mitsuru-san?” Naoto kept her voice low.

“I’ll be brief.” Mitsuru walked up to Naoto, their umbrellas almost touching.

_She certainly doesn’t want anyone to overhear—_

“The Dark Hour has returned,” Mitsuru cut the thought off, “to Inaba.”

_She’s being upfront about it,_ Naoto noted. _Yet, I don’t feel… comforted._

“I’m certain you or the others have already discovered this.”

“Yes,” Naoto said simply. “The entire Team currently present in Inaba met up during it last night.”

_I’ll withhold the information on the aberrant Shadow for now._

“Then you are likely already aware that most of the town’s residents are affected in a manner similar to the Dark Hour from three years ago, rather than that of the red fog variation from earlier this year.”

“Which means that it is likely not caused by a being similar to the one behind the incident in May,” Naoto said.

“Exactly.” Mitsuru looked away, towards the street. “It is likely being caused by a human—there are methods of creating a Dark Hour with a limited range. However, I have no concrete information to confirm or deny that as of yet.

“Furthermore,” the young adult continued, “the fact that most civilians are being transmogrified into coffins, instead of simply vanishing, means that there is a risk of some of the ordinary townsfolk being unaffected.”

“And thus being targeted by Shadows.” Naoto remembered the information she’d received on the Apathy Syndrome.

“Yes.” Mitsuru looked back at the detective. “So far, Aigis has not discovered anyone who has been afflicted with the Syndrome, but her scans of the town reveal that there are more people conscious during the Hour than there are known Persona users currently in Inaba.”

_Which either means that the ones responsible for its return are in Inaba, or there are innocent people aware during the Hour. Or both. And, neither bode well._

“Duly noted.” Naoto nodded again. “Do you suggest that the Team patrol the town during the Hour, to attempt to protect the residents?” _And_ _to try to locate and identify those responsible_ , she left part of the question unasked.

“What actions you and your companions choose from here is your decision; I have no authority over you. Any of you.” Mitsuru looked away. “But, what scans we’ve been able to complete during the past two nights suggests that what few Shadows that do spawn during this Hour only do so in the open; buildings appear to be safe.”

_So, she clearly wants us to avoid potential danger,_ Naoto translated. _But, she knows that we cannot simply stand by while our town is at risk._

_She is also not offering a proper alliance,_ she realized. _Is she going to attempt to resolve this issue without our assistance at all, or is she waiting for a particular situation to offer…?_

“I will have Aigis pass information we discover to you as we are able to verify it,” Mitsuru continued. “In the meantime,” she pulled an object out of a pocket of her coat, “please give this to your Team’s current leader. Hanamura-san, I believe? Aigis observed that he is more effective in combat when he has access to such a device—this one has been altered slightly to allow it to operate during the Dark Hour.”

Naoto accepted the offering.

It was a small, cylindrical MP3 player, attached to a neck strap made of a sturdy, dark blue cloth. There was some mild wear on the paint detail, suggesting the object’s age even more than the model number.

Why would Mitsuru alter a technically obsolete model to work during the Dark Hour? Especially when such a modification required the use of a Plume of Dusk?

“It….” Mitsuru looked away from the detective’s inquisitive gaze. “It belonged to… a dear friend of mine.”

It suddenly made a great deal of sense.

“Yosuke-senpai will certainly be deeply appreciative and see that it is well attended to.”

Mitsuru simply nodded, still not looking at her.

There was a long silence, broken only by the rain against their umbrellas and the thunder lazily rolling through the clouds.

“Well,” Mitsuru eventually spoke. “I’ll not keep you, Shirogane-san. Be sure to take care of yourself. Good evening.” She started down the street—in the same direction Naoto had spotted Fuuka in.

She looked at the device in her hand.

It suddenly looked so fragile, even in her small palm.

_It doesn’t quite fit you, of course_ , a familiar, warm voice echoed in her head. _But, you’ll grow into it. One day, it’ll fit you just fine, I think._

Her hand holding the umbrella twitched from the instinct it couldn’t follow—to pull on the brim of her hat.

She slipped the music player’s strap around her neck, keeping the device safely against her chest. Now freed, her hand instantly tugged on her hat.

She would call Yosuke as soon as she arrived at home.

A dark warmth surged in her lungs, as she continued down the street.

 

…

…

 

Kanji cursed repeatedly under his breath. His school jacket was  draped loosely over his head. The cloth kept the light rain off of his head, allowing him to focus on more important things.

Like keeping the container of food in his arms dry.

He hadn’t had time to tear apart the kitchen to look for the right lid, so he’d just grabbed the first one he could make work. So, while it mostly covered the food beneath from the rain, it wasn’t exactly going to stay put.

He’d been making food for dinner, while his mother finished up with the last set of customers for the day. Everything was going great, when Rise—it was always Rise, why was it always Rise?—had called him about her upcoming break and return to Inaba.

He’d asked why she’d called _him_ and not Yosuke.

“Because his line’s busy again,” she’d told him, irritation clear in her voice. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of him for over an hour. I either go straight to his voicemail or he just doesn’t answer.”

What was he _doing_? After a brief moment, Kanji had decided that—knowing Yosuke—he didn’t want to know.

“Then, why ain’t you tryin’ to call Naoto?” He’d replied. She was the closest thing to a second-in-command the Team had lately. If nothing else, she generally seemed to be happier to receive a call from the idol than Kanji was—and it wasn’t as if he hated getting them. Rise _did_ seem to get under the detective’s skin sometimes, but Naoto’s cool attitude usually balanced out the idol’s… perkiness. In fact, the idea that Rise _could_ get a rise out of Naoto was weird. Part of him wondered what she had on their friend.

Though, on second thought, considering what her favorite thing to tease Kanji over was, he decided he didn’t want to know that, either.

“She’s ignoring my calls,” Rise had said.

“What?” Kanji had nearly dropped the phone into the frying pan. That was weird. She might have ignored her text last night, but for her to completely blow off a call….

Something was up. 

Kanji had secured his cell between his ear and shoulder again as he continued frying the croquettes.

“But, she never ignores calls.”

Rise had simply laughed.

“She never ignores a call from _you_ , Moronji.”

“Wha’s that supposed ta mean?” He had barked at the phone, losing his grip on the tongs for a moment. “Shit,” he had hissed to himself, barely avoiding a splash of hot oil.

“Never mind,” Rise had said with another laugh. She had paused, while he pulled the last batch of the fried food out of the pan. “Is something wrong? She never responded to a text I sent last night, either.”

“She didn’t?” Kanji had paused, placing one of the croquettes in a bowl of noodles, setting it aside for his mother. “But, she said she would as soon as—”

“She said _what?_ ” Rise had cut him off. “You mean you were there? I sent that at, like, midnight! Were you at her—?”

“Didn’t Yosuke tell you?” Kanji had cut her off. “About what the Team ran into last night?” _First_ _Ma, now Rise?_

“Oh, no, Moronji.” Kanji could _hear_ the grin from the tone of her voice. “You are _not_ getting out of this. You gotta give me details!”

“What details?” Kanji had  felt the heat creep up his nose. He had picked up the plate of the remaining croquettes. “We were doin’ homework, tha’s all. She offered ta—” He had cut himself off.

“She _offered?_ ” Rise’s pitch had rose to a squeak, almost making him jump.

_Damn it. Sorry, Naoto._

“So, it _was_ a date!” Rise’s voice had almost caused Kanji’s ears to bleed, and he’d nearly dropped the plate in reaction.

“No, Rise—!”

“C’mon! What happened?”

“N-Nothin’ hap—!”

“Did you confess?” Rise had ignored him.

“No—!” Kanji took the phone in one hand.

“Did you kiss?”

Kanji had made an incoherent noise—one that quickly became a growl of frustration when he’d noticed that some of the croquettes had fallen off of the plate in his flustering and were now on the ground.

He’d then cursed at Rise, told her that she should just call or text Yosuke until she got a hold of him—that he needed to talk to her anyway—and hung up to attempt to salvage what he could. All while continuing to curse bitterly under his breath, and seriously considering calling Yu and telling him to just go for the idol already, if only so she’d stop trying to live through him.

Fortunately, it turned out that only three of the croquettes had actually fallen to the ground, which left more than enough for his mother and himself. But, he was now left with three croquettes that—while no longer good for them to eat—were still generally good.

Kanji hated wasting things, especially food.

He’d remembered the fox at the Shrine next to his house, and how she’d had cubs the past spring.

And so, he found himself carrying three croquettes in a poorly-covered plastic container through the rain to the Shrine.

The fox barked at him as he approached the offering box, her head just barely visible under the raised floor of the offering hall. She was staring at him with the same fierce look she’d always had whenever she’d follow the Team into the TV world—well, unless Yu was petting her. She’d certainly softened up then, leaning into the scratches, tail wagging just like a dog’s.

As he got closer, Kanji could see pairs of eyes on either side of her—her three cubs. The vixen slowly pulled herself out from the cover of the Shrine hall, creeping towards him. Her apron was mildly disheveled, and both it and her pelt quickly became saturated with rain.

Kanji placed the box on the ground, removing the mismatched lid. The fox sniffed at the offering, before taking a solid bite out of one of the croquettes. She looked up at him, giving the tall teenager what he believed to be a happy bark.

One of the cubs—if the scrawny bundle of fur could still be called that—pulled itself out from the cover of their home after its mother. She turned and yipped sharply at it, the younger fox covering to the ground instantly from the scolding, ears flat against its head.

Kanji knelt down, chuckling.

“They’ve gotten big, haven’t they?” He said to the mother fox.

She simply looked at him and gave another bark. After a moment, she took a step towards him, tilting her head at his hand.

Catching on, he gave her a quick scratch.

The fox suddenly pulled away, growling at something behind Kanji.

He stood up, turning around to see a small, blue-grey kitten curled up near the entrance to the Shrine. It tensed, before turning and running back towards the street.

Before Kanji could think, he knelt down, tore off half of one of the croquettes and took it as he ran after the tiny cat. It stumbled quickly across the street into the small alley next to the old hobby store.

Fortunately, the slowly dying storm was enough to keep most people indoors, so he was able to chase after it without worrying about cars. When he made it to the alley, he was able to just make out the greyish puff of rain-soaked fur under the dumpster.

“Hey, there, little guy,” Kanji tried to make his voice as gentle-sounding as possible. He knelt on the ground and held out the croquette-half in his open palm.

It wasn’t the best food for a growing kitten, but it had meat in it, at least, and it was better than nothing.

The kitten—some sort of Siamese mix with piercing blue eyes—stared at him from its shelter for a long, tense moment. Kanji didn’t move, attempting to look as non-threatening as he could while being so much bigger than the cat—and still wearing his jacket over his head.

Then, it took a single step out towards him. A large drop of rain hit it in the face, causing it to scramble back under the dumpster and resume its intense stare.

Kanji resisted the urge to laugh. It might be trying to look tough, but the kitten only looked even cuter instead.

It got worse—or  better, Kanji decided—when the kitten finally crawled completely out from under its crude shelter. It instantly puffed its coat as best as it could—the rain made it difficult to do much—raising its back in an arch.

Kanji smiled, but otherwise didn’t move.

Eventually, the kitten relaxed and walked awkwardly towards the offered food. It sniffed at the croquette half, before taking an experimental bite. It must have liked it, as it quickly snatched the rest from his hand and ran back under the dumpster with it.

“Okay.” Kanji finally allowed himself to chuckle. “That’s cool.”

The cat peeked out from its shelter, before creeping slowly back towards him. He held his hand out, presenting its open back to the cat. The kitten gradually came up to it, standing as far away as it could while still stretching its neck to sniff at his hand. It visibly relaxed giving a soft meow.

Emboldened, Kanji reached to pet the kitten’s head.

Before he could, the kitten hissed sharply and dashed back under the dumpster. It resumed eating, staring at him the entire time.

“All right, all right,” Kanji said. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Its body relaxed again, but it keep staring and eating.

Kanji smiled again.

The kitten reminded him of Naoto—though most things did, especially cute things. It was small and young and it tried to hide that by making itself look bigger and older and more threatening-looking. The way the kitten—like most cats—puffed itself up to look scary was a lot like how she wore clothes to make herself look taller and wider, and how she would hold herself to seem bigger than she was. When Naoto was angry, her posture changed so that—even though she was glaring _up_ at her target, not _down_ —her shoulders looked broader and she was just... more intimidating.

Not that the Detective Prince couldn’t be intimidating to start with….

Kanji slowly stood up. He sneezed once, earning a meow from the kitten in response.

He really should get back home and out of the rain. If he caught a cold, that’d make harder to help the Team. It was bad enough that he had to stay home tonight, and that he’d have to be more careful from now on to keep her from getting suspicious—or worse, assuming that he was—

Kanji shook his head, running back out to the street. He looked at the red gate to the Shrine.

The plastic container.

He’d left it at the offering hall.

_Damn it_ , Kanji scowled as he walked back to the textile shop and entered. He decided that he’d just run out and get it after dinner.

Maybe the rain would stop by then.

 

…

…

 

Naoto sighed, falling back into her drawing room couch. She could hear the footsteps outside her apartment as Yosuke walked away.

She’d asked him to visit briefly for two reasons: to give him the music player Mitsuru had entrusted her to do so, and to tell him about what the older woman had told her—and what she hadn’t.

Yosuke had looked at the MP3 player for a long moment, before grinning.

The moment had been interrupted when his cell phone rang. Seeing it was Rise, he’d decided to call her back after Naoto was done giving him the information and deductions she’d made that afternoon.

Not that the idol had relented, phoning him at least three more times during their meeting and sending him numerous text messages.

When Naoto’s phone rang, they had hardly reacted.

“Rise-san will simply have to wait,” Naoto had said.

“I’ll call her on my way home,” Yosuke had replied. “I need to get her caught up on what’s going on, anyway.” He’d paused. “I know that we’re not big on phone calls to pass along info right now, but we don’t have any other choice.”

He’d left shortly after, Naoto making a mental note to text Rise in an hour or so with an apology.

Until then, she would occupy herself by resting on her couch and clearing all thoughts from her mind. She closed her eyes, leaning back into the soft fabric.

Her peace did not last, however, as it was broken mere minutes later by the sound of the front door opening.

Naoto opened her eyes to see Akira closing said door behind her.

“Did I see Yosuke-san just now?” Her technical roommate spoke.

_Her Japanese is incredibly fluent,_ Naoto noted again. _I wonder just how the chips in her head permit her to speak and understand a language she likely had never directly encountered before._ She sat up.

“Good evening, Akira-san. Yes, Yosuke-senpai was visiting until a few minutes ago; I had a message to pass along.”

“Oh?” The woman looked at her.

The young detective said nothing, returning the soft gaze.

“All right, then.” Akira took off her shades, before rubbing at her neck.

“Are you all right?”

“Huh?” Akira blinked. “Oh, yeah. I just had to deal with a… rather drunk patron last night. He elbowed me pretty hard in the jaw. It’s been sore all day.”

“I see.” Naoto noticed a small, wrapped object in the woman’s hand. “May I ask what you have?”

“H-huh?” Akira stammered again. “O-oh. I got this from the Shiroku; I had to pick up a few small things, and it caught my eye.” She unwrapped it, revealing a simple, small green bowl, detailed with irregular golden lines. Filled cracks. “I don’t really get it. It’s pretty, but….”

Naoto stood up.

“It’s _kintsugi_ ,” she said.

“What?”

“It’s a method of repairing broken pottery. The idea is that the previous damage is simply a part of the object, and is something to be remembered as an event that made it what it is in the present.”

“Oh.” Akira looked at the bowl. She traced one of the golden lines with a single finger. “I think… I think I like that.” She placed the bowl on the low table in front of the couch.

Next to a textbook. Not one of Naoto’s.

_Kanji-kun must have forgotten this after our study session yesterday._ She picked it up, looking at the title. It wasn’t one of the books for class.

Which meant that he was studying this particular subject on his own.

She looked at Akira, the slowly-forming idea finally taking shape in her mind.

“Have you been experiencing any headaches today?” Naoto changed the subject, placing the book back on the table, face-down.

“Headaches?” Akira echoed. “No, I’ve been fine.”

“And, you are not currently experiencing one?”

“No…” Akira raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up?”

“Does something seem different to you?” Naoto asked. “Maybe my voice?”

Akira looked around, as if checking that no one was spying on her or pulling some sort of prank.

“No?”

“Fascinating.” Naoto brought a hand to her mouth in thought. “The chip is quite thorough; you truly cannot tell the difference, and it does not appear to be placing unnecessary stress on your system….”

“Please tell me what the hell,” Akira breathed.

“I am currently speaking in English.” Naoto glanced at the textbook. Out of the Team, her English was the strongest; not unreasonable, considering she’d learned to speak both languages at roughly the same time, before her parents had—

“What?” Akira gaped at her. “But, I don’t—!” She cut herself off, calming down. “I guess that’s the point. Why did you, uh, decide to test that?”

“I was curious to see if the chip we believe to be responsible for your… forced bilingualism was… harmful to your health in some manner. It was the simplest, least-invasive test.”

“So, do I pass?” Akira looked away.

“For now, at least.” Naoto rolled her shoulders.

“Well, uh,” Akira placed a plastic bag on the table, next to the bowl, “I really was just swinging by to drop this stuff off. I gotta get back; my shift starts soon.” She put her shades back on, then awkwardly adjusted her waistcoat. “G-good evening, Naoto-kun.” She gave a quick, awkward bow, shuffling out the door again before Naoto could respond.

Naoto narrowed her eyes.

_That was… peculiar._

She looked at the textbook.

_This is very wrong,_ she thought to herself as she walked to the door, grabbing her coat off of the armchair. _But, I need answers._ We _need answers._ She thought of the Shadow from the night before.

They couldn’t keep fighting blindly.

Naoto opened the door, locking it behind her as she left. The rain had stopped—at least in the immediate area—for the time being; it would likely pick up again within the hour. She slowly walked to the edge of the balcony.

She saw Akira in the parking lot below. The woman stopped, pulling a piece of paper out of her waistcoat. She looked at it briefly, before pocketing it again and walking to the sidewalk.

_Akira-san can’t read Japanese,_ Naoto recalled. _She mentioned that she can only truly read English, and a few, broken phrases in Russian. So, if that paper is a note from an outside party, that would mean she either can’t understand it, or it’s in English. Either case warrants further investigation._

Naoto started towards the stairs. Spying on her new friend didn’t exactly appeal to her, but….

She needed answers. There was enough pressure on the Team—on her—as it was. Even a bitter truth would be preferable to a flurry of unanswered questions.

It wasn’t as if she was unfamiliar with hard truths, after all.

Before she reached the ground floor, her phone vibrated in her coat pocket. An alert to a text message. Naoto pulled out her phone.

_Kanji-kun_.

She smiled.

_Hey, Naoto. Did I leave a book there? It was a, uh, English textbook._

Her smile widened.

_YES. I WILL BRING IT 2 HOMEROOM TMRW. ARE U STUDYING ENGLISH? I COULD ASSIST IF U’D LIKE._

She walked quickly through the parking lot, towards the street and sidewalk. She caught a glimpse of Akira, just before the woman turned down a nearby road.

Her phone went off again.

_Sure. That’s cool. If you want._

A second text quickly followed.

_Rise says you’re blowing her off. Everything cool?_

Naoto blinked at the device. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

The date glared at her from the corner of the screen. The sound of a deep laugh echoed in the back of her mind, accompanying the image of a glowing object just in front of her.

She pulled on the brim of her hat, shaking her head once.

_EVERYTHING IS FINE. I WILL TXT HER SHORTLY. SEE U TMRW._

Guilt began to boil in her stomach.

_GOODNIGHT, KANJI-KUN._

She slipped her phone back in her pocket and started to walk down the street.

 

…

…

 

“And, Rise-san just told me that she’s coming back this weekend,” Yosuke said into his cell.

“That’s good,” the calm, steady voice said on the other end. “I wish I could make it back, too.”

“Nah, man,” Yosuke reassured his partner. “You’ve got enough to worry about. We’ve got things here; once Rise’s home, we’ll be a lot better off. Her scanning ability is….” He cleared his throat. “Plus, Kanzeon has a combat form now, too. And, Mitsuru-san and Aigis-san are in Inaba, too. Between the seven of us and the two of them, I’m sure we can handle it. I just… wanted to make sure you knew what was goin’ on.”

“You certainly seem to have a handle on things, Yosuke,” Yu said with a chuckle. “Just, promise you’ll let me know if you guys need me. Maybe I could—”

“I will,” Yosuke cut him off. “But, seriously, man. Don’t stress out over it. You’ve got your entrance exams to worry about, right?” He leaned back in his desk chair, looking at a poster of a recent video game on his wall. “I wouldn’t want you to miss out on a good school, or….” He trailed off.

“You sure?” Yu’s voice had that mischievous tone again, the one that made Yosuke’s stomach turn—in more ways than one. “I could show up in a nurse outfit; that could help—”

“Damn it, man!” Yosuke barked at the phone. “Could you just _drop_ that!” He lowered his voice. “What’s wrong with nurses?”

Yu simply laughed for a moment.

“But, really, how is everyone?” Yu asked. “Rise’s kept in pretty heavy contact.”

_Gee, I wonder why._

“And,” Yu continued, unaware of his friend’s smirk, “Marie’s even texting me. Technically. She needs to learn how the space key works, though. I don’t get to hear from the others quite as much.”

“Everyone’s cool,” Yosuke said, grateful for the change in subject. “Chie’s still studying for her police exams; Yukiko-san says that she’s really improving. Heh, I guess that shirtless guy we met—the one she writes to—finally inspired her to step up her game. Oh, speaking of Yukiko, her inn’s doing great lately, too. There’s been a ton of tourists since this summer. Her cooking’s even improved! I mean, it’s not great, or anything, but you can eat it without dying, at least.”

“That’s a relief,” Yu said.

“Teddie’s been taking some shifts at Junes on his own—he’s working one now, actually,” Yosuke continued. “He’s even making friends with some of the part-timers. Hell, even Naoki-kun’s warmed up to him. He’s been studying with Kanji and some of the other second-years there about once a week.”

“So, they _did_ fix things. Good; I’m glad to hear that. How is Kanji? And Naoto-kun?”

“Kanji’s…” Yosuke chuckled. “Kanji is Kanji. You wouldn’t know it, looking at him on some days, but he’s still the same guy he was in May. If anything, he’s more confident. Mostly.” He chuckled.

“Good. I was afraid I’d… startled him when I visited this summer.”

“Dude, you stared at him and said ‘Hot damn, Kanji.’” Yosuke rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “I’d have been thrown if you said that to me.”

“Hot damn, Yosuke.”

Yosuke made a long, incoherent noise.

Damn it, now he was blushing, wasn’t he?

“Dude!” He regained his ability to speak. “Don’t go around saying that! You’ll weird people out!”

“How’s Naoto-kun?” Yu recovered the topic. “She said something about staying in Inaba after all?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke calmed down. “I don’t really know the details—maybe Kanji does—but she said something about taking a general break from casework to focus on school.” His tone lowered. “I think she was just lonely. It’s hard, setting down roots after not really having any and then trying to just move on.”

“Yeah.” Yu’s voice matched his.

_Crap, I shouldn’t have said that!_

“Actually,” Yu continued anyway, “what about her… and Kanji?”

“Dude,” Yosuke gave a short dry laugh, “you too?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t see it. They seemed awfully close when I visited over the summer.”

“Well,” Yosuke amended, “as close as Naoto-kun ever gets to anyone. I honestly don’t really know; they still seem to be just circling around each other, as usual. Neither one seems to quite… see the other’s… yeah. Actually, I don’t think Naoto even knows how she feels. It’s obvious to the rest of the Team—even Teddie’s caught on—but she doesn’t even seem to acknowledge attraction as a _thing_ , let alone her own emotions.”

“She mentioned something about that last year,” Yu said. “The flood of letters she got probably didn’t help much.”

“Got?” Yosuke smiled. “She still gets more letters than half the school combined. The first-years are really obsessed right now. I’ve actually had to scare a few off just to get through the front door. Guys _and_ girls.”

“Sounds about right.”

“To be honest, though, part of me just wants to lock the two of them in a closet for a few hours, make them work it out. But, that’d probably just end up with Kanji dead—either from a heart attack or Naoto’s gun. And…” He trailed off. “As frustrating as watching them spin their wheels is, I really don’t know if I want to know what would….” He cleared his throat. “The idea of one of them in a relationship is weird. Both of them, and together? The thought of them being some lovey couple… kinda breaks my mind.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Yosuke was _definitely_ blushing now.

“Sh-shut up!” Yosuke picked up a pencil off of his desk and began to twirl it in his free hand. “Mostly, I… just don’t want to see either of them get hurt. I know… how much that sucks.”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Yu’s voice was bright. “Besides, it sounds like they’re in good hands to me.”

Yosuke looked at the floor. A moment of silence held.

“You think I can do this?” Yosuke whispered, not sure if Yu could even hear him.

“I wouldn’t have left it to you if I didn’t.”

Yosuke hesitated.

“I… I should probably let ya go, now. It’s getting late. The Dark Hour’ll cut us off, anyway.”

“Yeah. Take care of them, Yosuke.” He paused. “And… take care of yourself, too.”

“O-of course, partner.” Yosuke leaned forward in his chair. “A-and, Yu?”

“Yeah?”

Yosuke opened his mouth, before closing it.

“G-goodnight.”

“Night, Yosuke.”

Yosuke hung up the phone before he could say anything stupid.

Or anything that wasn’t stupid.

He looked up at the ceiling.

Yosuke had a feeling that the Dark Hour wasn’t the only thing that was going to be keeping him up tonight.


	13. Damage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains spoilers for Ultimax, for both the P3 and P4 routes (it has a Naoto-centric flashback, with much of the dialogue/thoughts and basic events intact, showing some of a retelling/merge of the different routes, along with some minor tweaks; they do not match up in the original game). Being through at least Chapter Eight on P4's route and Chapter Four on P3's should be good, though I highly suggest clearing both completely from this point on.

Steam rose from the mug in her hands. The coffee’s warmth radiated through the metal and plastic and into the young detective’s palms.

Naoto sighed, leaning back against the side of the old hobby store. She’d heard that the owner was planning on making a comeback; Souzai Daigaku and Aiya had both experienced a surge of new, relatively constant customers since the summer, and various other businesses were hoping to revive upon that same opportunity. There was even talk amongst the townsfolk of some new entrepreneurs purchasing some of the various closed buildings and opening a new store in its stead.

A year prior, Naoto would have never held much faith in the last part. People in general were typically adverse to change. Communities such as Inaba were generally more so. Yet….

Yet, there were those embracing change and quite visibly benefiting from it. Perhaps it was out of camaraderie; the townspeople were supporting each other in this manner in order to keep their town from stagnating and falling apart. Especially after several larger businesses—including Junes—had offered their support to Souzai Daigaku to sell their goods outside of Inaba.

Leaning slightly to peer around the corner of the hobby store, Naoto glanced down the street, towards said eatery.

Fuuka Yamagishi was paying for a package of food, giving the worker a smile and nod before heading down the street.

A trip to the bookstore, the Shiroku, and now dinner; Naoto was beginning to suspect that following the young woman wasn’t going to produce any useful evidence or information today.

She scowled.

Perhaps she should just talk to Mitsuru directly. Or Fuuka herself. Being upfront could be beneficial; they stood a better chance at solving this mystery without incident if they worked together. But….

But, why had Mitsuru neglected to tell Naoto that Fuuka was in Inaba in the first place? Mitsuru knew that Rise wasn’t in Inaba—though she was now scheduled to arrive in the next twenty-four hours—and that the Team was vulnerable without her scanning abilities; Teddie simply couldn’t substitute for Kanzeon’s powers. Fuuka’s Persona could have greatly assisted them in combat.

Not that they’d run into another Shadow since their encounter with the aberrant one the other night. But, that was irrelevant.

Naoto wondered if they could truly trust Mitsuru and the Shadow Operatives after all, or if the incident in May had simply been a fluke.

Naoto shook her head.

That was highly unfair and judgmental of her. Even an outsider would be able to deduce that Mitsuru was simply trying to protect the Team. They were a bunch of high school-aged teenagers, and two of their core members were unavailable. It wasn’t a problem that would be solved simply by replacing them with a similar substitution. Fuuka wasn’t a part of the Team; she didn’t know the strengths and weaknesses of each member—beyond just the basic elemental aspects of their respective Personas—or how they worked together. It would be no different than if Rise suddenly attempted to serve as support for the Shadow Operatives. That lack of understanding could lead to mistakes in judgment or misinformation in battle. On that thought, perhaps keeping Fuuka’s presence was—to Mitsuru’s perspective—her way of protecting them.

Yet, she could still serve as a valuable asset. Her scanning ability would at least permit them warning of an incoming attack, inform them on the presence of conscious humans—including potential enemies—in the town, and grant them knowledge of the basic strengths and weaknesses of a target.

And, perhaps Fuuka would have been able to determine the cause for Naoto’s brief struggle with evoking her Persona the other night.

Naoto didn’t want to mistrust Mitsuru. The woman’s loyalty to her friends and her cause—to break from her family’s shadowy past and help others as best as she could with her abilities—had earned the young detective’s admiration and respect.

Not to mention, she had already freely given information that it would have been more beneficial for her to keep to herself, if she truly were untrustworthy. Mitsuru had also granted a significant amount of trust to Naoto and the others—the woman could have easily taken Akira with her, kept her hidden in a lab or hospital somewhere and observe her secretly. Instead, Mitsuru had entrusted Naoto to shelter and aid the woman in her own apartment—and trusted her to be capable of handling herself if Akira ever turned on them.

Naoto frowned.

There was no easy answer. Perhaps she should directly confront—no, consult Mitsuru on the subject. She wouldn’t have to demonstrate any sort of mistrust on her end; simply state that she’d witnessed Fuuka in town, and if Mitsuru knew of her presence.

After all, Mitsuru likely was using her to gather information—something she’d already admitted to be doing and that she wanted to make sure that she didn’t give the Team faulty intelligence.

Perhaps she could meet it halfway. Take a couple more days, observe Fuuka when their paths crossed, but not outright shadow her. On Monday, she’d consult with Mitsuru—Rise would be in town by then and would have been able to use her own abilities. It would present both of them with an opportunity to form a solid alliance with a minimal amount of damaged pride.

Besides, Akira now definitely required observation—and this was a secret that she was keeping from Mitsuru.

And from the Team.

She’d followed Akira the other night, after observing her reading the unknown note, but the woman had simply returned to the Shiroku, presumably to prepare for her shift. Naoto could have waited and observed whether or not she met with anyone after work—or if anything peculiar happened at the Pub during the Dark Hour—but both would have required her to be out until past midnight on a school night. It would have also increased her chances of being caught—and not just by Akira or a fellow Persona user. The enemy may have noticed her observations, or she may have run into Dojima or another member of the Inaba Police.

She’d done enough lying to the detective during the murder case the previous year. She would greatly prefer to avoid even simply omitting parts of the truth to him, if at all possible. After all, Dojima trusted her with the life of his daughter, and still did. The very least she could do in return was attempt to be as honest as possible with him.

Naoto sighed.

Akira would likely still be at home, sleeping before her next shift, so there was little chance at… investigating her at the moment. Attempting to sift through the woman’s personal belongings, few as they were, while she was at home—asleep or awake—would not only be excessively risky, but in quite poor taste; Naoto might have still struggled with social cues, but that was obvious enough.

She took a long sip of coffee from the mug. The beverage was starting to cool off; coffee was no good once it was cold. Her grandfather had a strange fascination with iced coffee but, no matter how she tried, Naoto simply never shared it.

She considered walking along the Samegawa Floodplain on her way home. It would likely be peaceful, if nothing else; the rain that had accompanied each evening the past week had resulted in people turning in for the night a little earlier than usual for the season.

Her frown deepened at the thought of returning to her empty apartment—more or less, a sleeping individual hardly made for a good conversationalist—for another evening alone didn’t quite appeal to her tonight.

Naoto had theorized that the rain—combined with the recent Shadow activity—would result in the return of the Midnight Channel. In part, her theory was correct; since Tuesday night, televisions were displaying the familiar yellow static throughout the Dark Hour. However, there was no further image, not even a silhouette. As disappointing as it was—the Team had been hoping for whatever lead they could find—Naoto wasn’t surprised. The Midnight Channel typically only showed what the viewer wanted to see; the glimpses of the next victim the Team had seen had been borne from the collective minds of the town. The image—usually—had only become discernible and accompanied with audio once the person in question had been sent through, and generally depicted the person’s Shadow.

Naoto remembered her own Shadow, and wondered once more what it had said when the Team had watched. She’d asked once, during a break in their training in the TV world. Yu and Kanji had simply looked at each other and looked away.

“About what you’d expect,” Yosuke had eventually said.

She started down the street. Naoto decided that she’d take a page from Fuuka’s book and head to the bookstore for a short while before heading home.

About two meters from the door, a pair of familiar voices made her look up.

“Ah, Shirogane-san.”

“Naoto-neesan!”

Naoto blinked back and forth between the detective and his daughter for a moment.

Dojima appeared far more clean-shaven than he generally did at the station, with barely any stubble visible to even Naoto’s observation skills. The detective was also wearing his suit jacket, as opposed to carrying it or outright discarding it as he usually did—a testament to the unseasonable cold that was plaguing the town, the very same that had Naoto sporting her uniform’s winter jacket, like the majority of her classmates. His hair was still mildly disheveled as ever, however, and his tie likewise worn loose against his grey shirt.

Nanako wore a long, dark pink dress under a simple purple jacket, her long brunette hair pinned back with a similar-styled clip. She held her father’s hand loosely. The young girl appeared to be going through another growth spurt; she was visibly at least several centimeters taller than the last time Naoto had seen her. 

“Good afternoon, Dojima-san, Nanako-chan.” At the very least, the brightness in Naoto’s voice was genuine. “How are you?”

“Well enough.” Dojima nodded once.

“Daddy’s taking me to Kanji-niichan’s puppet class at the textile shop!” Nanako clenched her father’s hand tighter as she beamed up at Naoto.

“Which is something I never thought I’d hear her say,” Dojima mumbled, as he scratched at the back of his neck with his free hand.

Naoto had forgotten; Kanji led various workshops at the textile shop after school on most Fridays. The younger kids in town—mostly those in their first year of middle school and younger—had really taken to him, especially after his change in hairstyle and the more mild alteration of his general attire. Every week, his class consisted of no fewer than six kids; Naoto had stopped by a few times, and noted that about four or five of them had become regular students. Nanako was one of them, much to Dojima’s initial confusion.

Most of the kids’ parents had difficulty accepting that Kanji really hadn’t been the thug the town thought him to be, that it had just been a façade he’d fabricated.

Dojima, however, had accepted him almost immediately. According to Yu, he’d been wary of his nephew’s friendship with the boy at first, but after Nanako had told him how the “really tall, cool boy” had helped sew her stuffed platypus’s arm back on—and had knitted the toy a sweater for her, as well—he’d warmed up to the idea that Kanji was a good kid, even if his personality seemed rough at first.

Plus, Kanji’s mother insisted that he was a kind and gentle boy, and she still commanded a deep level of respect throughout Inaba. Between her word and Nanako’s, Dojima had accepted the boy was no longer a problem. Despite what one would think at first glance, Dojima was a surprisingly accepting man; Naoto knew this first-hand.

When she’d first come to Inaba, sent by the prefectural police to  aid the investigation, the older detective had had no desire to work with her—or, _him_ , as the perception went. To Dojima, Naoto had been a young upstart, even more annoying to deal with than the rookies, especially considering she’d had the experience many of them didn’t, and the ego to match. The only person in the police department who’d shown any sort of positive reaction to her presence initially had actually been Adachi, of all people; however, he’d quickly grown sick of her then-abrasive personality and obsession with the case. It had been a falling out—frankly, it had been just short of a full-on shouting match—with the rookie detective that had led her to decide to take matters into her own hands and bait the kidnapper.

And, for the most part, it had gotten worse when she’d been rescued and her biological sex had been revealed. Half the department had gone from treating her with open contempt to flat-out ignoring her whenever possible. Nearly all of them had been none-too-subtle that perhaps she should just focus on school and a _normal_ life, _like a good, little girl_.

Dojima, on the other hand, had done a complete one-eighty. He’d suddenly become a supporter—though silently, at first. Perhaps it was in part to him being one of the few members of the Inaba Police who’d been married for any significant amount of time, or due to the fact that he had a daughter that had already proven to be a very strong, capable, independent girl, despite her youth. Or, maybe Dojima was simply a smart, observant man who was able to finally understand _why_ Naoto had been so desperate to prove herself. In any case, he’d started showing her support, insisting that she be continued access to the police department, even though she’d been officially taken off of the serial murder case. He’d confided with her that he suspected that there was more to the case than the rest of the department believed—which had led to her fury at his inaction in the interim when Nanako had been kidnapped by Namatame.

When he’d been in the hospital, however, he’d outright ordered that she work in his stead, even giving her direct access to his desk and records. This had given her a small amount of evidence that had assisted in the Team’s investigation. He’d entrusted her—along with Yu and the others—with his daughter’s life while he’d been incapacitated. He’d stood beside the Team—beside her—when they’d discovered Adachi was the true killer, even when every other member of the police department thought she was delusional. He’d even hit a few officers who’d thrown a few slurs at her, convinced that she was just pointing fingers. Dojima had even granted her continued support after the case was generally resolved, which had helped her with a few cases afterwards, allowing her a more functional base to work from without having to leave the town she’d grown rather attached to.

He’d even invited her home for dinner a few times—in a manner not unlike how he’d once invited Adachi—though Nanako would always greet her with warm enthusiasm, unlike the incarcerated rookie. She’d been apprehensive at first—even though the first time had been before Yu had left Inaba—but Nanako’s open joy at her company had quickly won her over.

Unlike the Team—who’d she’d left a less-than-positive first impression on—Nanako had warmed up to Naoto immediately, from the first time they’d run into each other at the summer festival.

“Have you gone to any of Kanji-niichan’s classes?” Nanako asked, jolting Naoto back into the present.

“Hmm?” Naoto blinked at her for a moment. “Er, no,” she eventually admitted. “I haven’t attended one.” Kanji hadn’t really offered, at least not directly, otherwise Naoto had a feeling that she’d have accepted—despite her reluctance at any sort of handicraft that didn’t include electronics or robotics. It had become distressingly easy over the past several months to justify spending time with him, particularly when he was the one presenting the invitation.

Something she refused to analyze; to do so meant metaphorically standing next to a rather sharp cliff she wasn’t sure how to acknowledge, let alone address.

“You should!” Nanako said, letting go of her father’s hand. “It’s really fun! You wanna come with me, Naoto-neesan?”

“Er,” Naoto hesitated. She really had no desire to spend another afternoon and evening alone, but Kanji had never actually invited her; the classes were aimed more for the younger kids. _Though_ , she admitted to herself, _Yu-senpai had mentioned that he’d attended a couple of classes with Nanako-chan._

“Nanako…” Dojima started, before something else caught his attention.

Before she could turn to see what Dojima was focused on behind her, Nanako grabbed the young detective’s hand in both of hers, giving her a grin.

“You should!” Nanako insisted. “I know that Kanji-niichan would be really happy, too! He talks about you, sometimes!”

“Huh?” Naoto blinked at her.

“Nanako,” Dojima sighed, “you really shouldn’t—!”

“Naoto-kun!” A new voice trilled from behind the young detective.

Before Naoto could turn to face the speaker, they’d already practically leapt onto her back, their arms wrapped around her neck from behind in an awkward hug. This resulted in their face being _much_ too close to hers. A sharp jolt of pain surged from her back, making Naoto stumble slightly, her vision turning white for a split second.

“Rise-san!” Naoto identified her once her lungs resumed functioning. “I thought your train was arriving tomorrow!”

“No,” Rise said cheerfully, swaying from her friend’s neck, ignoring the girl’s reddening face. “I _said_ that I would be meeting with the Team tomorrow, after school! My train came in twenty minutes ago!”

“It is good to see you, Rise-san,” Naoto struggled to say against the girl’s arms. “But, er… Rise-san?” She hesitated.

“What?”

“I think you’re suffocating Shirogane-san,” Dojima filled in.

“Oh, sorry, Naoto-kun,” Rise said, releasing her.

Naoto turned half-way, allowing her to look between Dojima, Nanako, and Rise.

“I presume you’ve already visited Kanji-kun,” Naoto said, rubbing lightly at her neck and attempting to ignore the pulsating ache in her back.

Rise smirked. Naoto’s stomach churned slightly, though she wasn’t entirely certain why.

“Thinkin’ about Kanji again, huh?” Rise said brightly.

“…I do not believe I follow your insinuation.” Naoto blinked at her.

Dojima cleared his throat loudly.

“Welcome home, Kujikawa-san,” he changed the subject. “I trust you’ve been well?”

“Yep!” Rise nodded. “I’m just in town for a few weeks for a break from work.”

“Well, be sure to keep out of trouble while you’re here, all right?”

“Of course!” Rise said with another smile. “Besides, I have the Detective Prince to keep me in line!” She wrapped one arm around Naoto’s neck, dragging her close again.

Another jolt of pain surged through her back. Naoto had to fight back tears.

 _It is particularly sensitive today,_ Naoto noted. She realized that no one on the Team had really been informed of the wound that had left the currently inflamed scarring. If Rise’s Persona had informed her of the wound on that night, somehow, she’d certainly never mentioned it; her current actions suggested that she was uninformed.

“S-sure, Rise-san,” Naoto struggled to speak.

“Since you asked,” Rise didn’t seem to notice her friend’s discomfort, “I _was_ going to stop by Moronji’s but I saw you down the street and decided to catch you before you went home—it’s a pain to walk all the way to your apartment, sometimes.” She released the detective, shaking her head.

 _I hadn’t intended on integrating myself into the community on any level when I’d initially leased the unit_ , Naoto thought silently. _When I had decided to stay, it was simply easier to continue my residence there._

Dojima’s phone rang, and he make a quiet apology as he stepped aside to answer it.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Rise looked at Nanako, releasing Naoto again. “Hey, Nanako-chan! How are you?”

“Hello, Rise-neechan!” Nanako grinned at the idol. “I’m going to Kanji-niichan’s puppet class!”

“Oh, are you?” Rise smiled. She looked at Naoto. “What do you say? Why not go with her?”

“I, er,” Naoto started.

“Don’t tell me you really have plans, Naoto-kun,” Rise said. “I know you; you’ll just spend the night alone with a book again.”

Rise had a point. And, Naoto was, admittedly, not looking forward to the notion of an evening by herself.

“I am not certain that Kanji-kun would… desire my presence at his—”

“Naoto-kun,” Rise cut her off. “You are the most oblivious person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m… not certain I understand what you mean.”  

Rise sighed.

“Just come with us, all right?” She asked. “I promise Kanji won’t be mad at you. You might even have fun.”

Naoto hesitated.

Rise was making it extremely easy to say yes, but it was also becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the metaphorical cliff.

“Kujikawa-san,” Dojima rejoined the group, “would you be so kind as to walk with Nanako the rest of the way? One of our rookies is….” He shook his head.

“Of course!” Rise smiled. “I was headed to the textile shop to say hi, anyway. And, Naoto-kun’s comin’ too, right?”

“Er, I hadn’t….” Naoto started. She looked at Nanako, who simply smiled at her. “As Rise-san mentioned, it isn’t exactly as if I had a prior engagement.” She sighed. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to accompany you….”

“Really?” Nanako’s grin widened, and she took Naoto’s hand in hers again. “Yay!

Naoto blinked at her again. She felt the tension in her chest melt away, a warmth flowing from it, and she couldn’t help but smile back.

“Well, then,” Dojima said, “I’ll leave her in your hands, Shirogane.” He turned to his daughter. “I’ll pick you up when the workshop’s over, okay?”

“Sure!” Nanako’s fingers tightened around Naoto’s. “Bye, Dad!” She waved with her free hand as her father hurriedly walked down the street.

Naoto shot Rise a hard look. The idol simply smiled—almost innocently—at her.

The young detective wasn’t entirely sure she understood Rise’s logic in this situation. The teenage girl seemed to want to emulate the same tight-knit bond their senpai demonstrated with each other; the third-years of the Team were close—to the point of generally dropping honorifics with one another, including Yukiko on occasion—so shouldn’t it follow that the second-years would be equally close? And, in a fashion, they were. The only difficulty that Rise encountered in this endeavor was that they had far less of a preexisting base to build upon. The idol and the tailor had had few, if any, solid friendships for years until they’d joined the Team.

If anything, Naoto was even further stunted socially; she had never held a positive connection with someone her own age until the Team. It wasn’t that she didn’t deeply enjoy Rise and Kanji’s company—and Naoki’s—she simply didn’t fully understand what was expected of her. Or, to be frank, what she ultimately wanted from her friendships.

She wanted to feel wanted—needed—by those she’d come to trust and rely on, but.

But, she still wasn’t certain what that entailed—not with her fellow second-years.

Furthermore, Rise seemed oddly fixated on Naoto’s gradually fledgling friendship with Kanji, over any other bond between the second-years. This was where the cracks in Rise’s logic began to become more obvious. Naoto had taken a couple months to grasp that Kanji had even viewed her as a friend, or had at least wanted to. On a superficial level, they appeared to have little in common—his interests included his knitting, sewing, and cooking, while hers consisted primarily of novels, casework, and occasional tinkering with various types of technology—though they did seem to have a sort of kinship, particularly in their insecurities. It was hardly the basis for such interest from a third party, however. They’d only recently begun to be able to interact privately—without the Team, or at least Rise’s inclusion—in a manner that didn’t leave both of them in an uneasy silence. Naoki had had a significant hand in that, as well; his steady demeanor had served as a calm catalyst. To an outside observer, Naoto suspected that the slow pace which she and Kanji had taken to develop to even this point was likely on the verge of frustrating.

So, why was Rise—and the rest of the Team, now that Naoto thought about it—so fascinated by it?

Naoto sighed again, allowing Nanako to lead her down the street. She thought briefly of the little girl she’d first met at the summer festival the year before—just before she’d enrolled at Yasogami as part of her investigation—and how she’d initially been crestfallen. Naoto’s own observations had led her to deduce that Nanako had been tailing her cousin for some reason—his series of part-time jobs had entangled him in several complications—and she’d initially intended on keeping out of it, to continue observing without influence for as long as she could manage.

But, the young girl’s disheartened expression had struck something inside, and Naoto had been unable to just watch her walk dejectedly away. In truth, she’d seen something of herself in the younger girl; there had been a chance to encourage her, to right the wrongs that had been done against the young detective.

Once she’d joined the Team, Naoto had found that that kinship continued; Nanako may not had sought her out in the same manner as with Rise or Kanji, and none on the Team could ever rival her bond with Yu, but there had been a quiet connection, a sort of mutual admiration. Nanako had been—and still was—strong, relatively independent and mature for her age, all without sacrificing her child-like nature. She held a wide range of interests, regardless of what her peers or society expected of her. Nanako didn’t let anyone else force her to alter aspects of herself.

Naoto frowned slightly, as they approached the textile shop.

To be honest, the detective was jealous of the young girl. She had a strength Naoto had never been able to find within herself.

Maybe she could….

Naoto let go of Nanako’s hand.

“Go on,” she said softly.

“Aren’t you coming?” Nanako looked disappointed.

“We’ll join you shortly,” Naoto said, before shooting Rise a brief glance. “I just have a question for Rise-san first.”

Nanako looked at her for a long moment, then at Rise.

“I promise!” The idol insisted.

“Okay!” Nanako said brightly, before heading into the store.

“What’s up?” Rise asked as soon as she was out of earshot.

“Have you spoken to Yosuke-senpai?” Naoto didn’t waste time.

“Yes,” Rise said. “I called him on the train, too. I know what’s going on.” She paused. “He wants us to lay low one more night, and then he wants us to… study tomorrow.” She was clearly attempting to remain as vague as possible, while still understandable to the detective. If anyone was eavesdropping, it was best if they couldn’t confirm anything. “Actually, uh, Naoto-kun?”

“Yes, Rise-san?”

“Are you okay?” Rise looked at her.

Naoto looked away.

“I am fine.” She opened the store door, walking in. The idol followed close behind.

“Ah! Rise-chan! Naoto-kun! It’s very good to see you!” Kanji’s mother greeted them immediately, standing in front of a display of knitted and stuffed animals of various types and sizes—Kanji’s personal work. Naoto didn’t have to inspect them to know that they were each very solidly made with a careful attention to detail.

“Good afternoon, Tatsumi-san,” Naoto said, while Rise gave her a slight wave.

“N-Naoto!” Kanji stammered from the far end of the store, where he sat on the tatami, surrounded by several elementary-age children, including Nanako. He shuffled his hands rapidly, as if hiding something. “R-Rise? Whadaya doin’ here? I thought you weren’t comin’ ‘til tomorrow?” His right hand was completely covered in a hand-sewn puppet of a light blue dog with darker spots.

Naoto looked at Rise, forcing her expression to remain blank and fighting back a smile.

“Shut up,” Rise said under her breath, so only the detective could hear. Louder, “Kanji, I told you twice yesterday that I’d be back today.”

“Sorry,” Kanji grumbled, barely audible. “I forgot.”

Rise shot Naoto a smile. The detective simply blinked in response.

Rise took Naoto’s hand, dragging her along as she walked over to the gathering of kids around their friend.

“Mind having a couple more students?” Rise asked.

Kanji adjusted his glasses, focusing his gaze on the floor, just to his right.

“If—if’n ya wanna. I don’ mind, either way.”

Rise’s grin widened. She sat down, just behind the semi-circle of children, dragging Naoto to the floor with her.

 _It would appear that I have little choice in the matter._ Naoto decided to simply relent to Rise’s insistence.

She glanced sideways, briefly catching the gaze of Kanji’s mother. The woman smiled softly at her, before turning around and focusing on a display of scarves.

It was easier than admitting, even to herself, that she in fact wanted to spend the time with Kanji—regardless of the presence of the younger kids, or Rise.

 

…

…

 

Naoto looked around.

The Junes food court had never been imposing by any means, but now…. Even as empty as it felt, her surroundings sent waves of cold down her back. Minus the P-1 Climax posters and logo plastered everywhere, the entire store had been relatively unaltered by the red fog. Or, perhaps, by the Dark Hour. Naoto still was uncertain which force had caused much of Inaba to become twisted and surreal in appearance, resembling one of the odd paintings that she’d seen while working a case in the city. The food court, however, seemed generally unchanged—minus the P-1 emblems—and the numerous, mildly disfigured panda-like objects piled irregularly in a gated storage area, barely hiding a number of fallen televisions with screens illuminated a pale blue. The tables were all pushed aside and there were light, glowing pink markings on the floor—the remains of multiple combat rings, destroyed when the fake Shadow that had summoned one was destroyed in single combat.

Like the false Chie, which Naoto had just witnessed dissolve in a slurry of black dust and particles of light.

 _Someone_ else _has fought a Shadow here_ , she deduced from the second set of marks, which had already been on the food court floor upon her arrival. Her hand twitched, gripped around her pistol. She couldn’t relax until she was certain that she was alone—or at least, that anyone else that might appear wasn’t an enemy.

She had run into Kanji shortly after she’d left the Inaba police station at the start of this twisted version of the Dark Hour. He’d just split off from Yukiko and Teddie. More accurately, he’d beat one of the fake Shadows into dust—and particles of light—and the others hadn’t realized that he’d been too exhausted from the fight to keep up, at least not until they had vanished into the labyrinthine red fog. She couldn’t permit herself to leave him alone, despite her need to keep moving, so they’d continued towards Junes together. As they’d passed the Samegawa floodplain, however, he’d noticed a newcomer—a young teenager and a white dog—and had rushed into the situation without thinking. Already unusually tired from his last fight, he’d nearly gotten himself killed to protect the kid; if Naoto had been a little further away, she wouldn’t have been able to evoke her Persona in time to save him—or the others. Ken Amada and Koromaru, to be specific; they were members of the Auxiliary Shadow Operatives, brought in to investigate their missing leaders—and friends.

By the time Ken and Koromaru had split ways with them, however, Kanji was barely able to walk. Naoto had offered to assist him with the task, but he’d refused quite fervently. But, when they’d reached the department store, he’d all but completely collapsed against a wall. He’d insisted that he just needed a minute to rest, and Naoto knew they didn’t have time to waste arguing, so they’d agreed she would investigate the food court by herself. If there were any members of the Team there already, they needed to meet up and exchange what information they could.

Not to mention, other members of the Auxiliary Shadow Operatives may also end up there—Junes was a rather noticeable landmark. Its food court could also potentially serve as a landing area for a helicopter; Ken had mentioned that other members of the Operatives were still in the vehicle, and that it was designed to function during the Dark Hour.

Instead of their friends, however, Naoto had encountered only a copy of Chie, created from an unrelated Shadow. It had forced her to fight it in single combat—and Naoto had found herself thankful that she’d left Kanji in the lobby; he probably would have insisted on fighting it himself, stubborn boy, and would have thus ended up with more severe injuries.

Naoto sighed, holstering her pistol. There was no one here. Whoever had been at the food court—and had apparently participated in a fight before her—they were long gone. She walked towards the end of the food court facing the direction the strange, misshapen tower stood.

It resembled the descriptions and rough sketches of Tartarus from the minimal data files that the Public Safety officer had provided her with. However, instead of located over Iwadotai’s Gekkoukan High School, it was in Inaba, and apparently rising from the site of Yasogami.

_But, why…?_

She sighed, adjusting her hat. She took another step towards it, stumbling suddenly, falling to her knees. She shook her head. A wave of exhaustion washed over her.

Summoning her Persona and otherwise being in the TV world _did_ cause her and the others to become tired after a while, depending on how they fought, but it was usually far more gradual and remarkably easy to recover from—a good night’s rest was often enough to allow one to recover, outside of any serious injury.

Yet, a single fight left her nearly as exhausted as she’d been after the Team had pulled her out of the TV that first time. It didn’t make sense, unless….

“This is a setup.” Naoto forced herself back onto her feet.

She saw the sparkle of the particles of light in the distance, appearing to fly towards the Tartarus-like tower.

“Red fog in a Dark Hour that makes our world remarkably like the TV world.” Naoto ran through the points of information she’d gathered so far. “The apparent return of the deceased Ikutsuki. False Shadows of members of both the Investigation Team and of the Shadow Operatives. One-on-one fights against said Shadows, who are upfront about their nature, so as to encourage us to fight without any restraint or thought. Particles of light that emerge from their defeated forms, and fly towards….” Naoto felt her breath catch in her throat. “Tartarus!” She remembered what the file had said. “It was used to summon—Aaaaaagh!” She cried out as a sharp pain jolted across her back, radiating throughout her body. She stumbled forward again, falling to the food court floor.

She gave a strangled gasp, forcing what air she could into her lungs. Her vision flashed white. She glanced backwards.

A figure stood above her in the red darkness.

“I must ask that you not needlessly inquire further,” he spoke in a smooth, dark voice. “Now is not the time.” Naoto could just make out his thin, lithe frame and burning red hair. He held a pair of katanas, one of the blades slowly dripping with….

She forced herself to keep taking deep breaths, to try to steady her panic.

She had no idea who this newcomer was—or where he’d come from. Naoto had been convinced that she’d been completely aware of her surroundings, unlike when the Shadow had attacked, yet this person had managed to catch her completely off-guard. Naoto would have been ashamed of her lack of awareness, if she wasn’t currently busy struggling to stand up again.

Pain seared from her wound through every muscle in her body.

“Naoto Shirogane,” the figure addressed her from the thinning fog. “You will be making your exit here….” He raised his swords. “Die.”

He charged.

Naoto took a step backwards, the jolt of pain causing her to lurch much further than a single step should permit. The attacker’s blade grazed her cheek. She flinched.

The momentum of her dodge, combined with another flash of pain from her back, caused Naoto to fall backwards into the fence of the storage cage. She clasped the metal links of said fence with both hands, using it as a brace to hold herself as upright as she could. She could feel blood as it ran slowly down her back, the warmth spreading through her shredded shirt and—

 _Damn it!_ She struggled to keep breathing; each heave of her chest was slow and heavy. Despite the tightening of her lungs and her throat’s threat to constrict completely, she felt her chest—loosen the slightest bit. _This is my best_ —!

She cut herself off. This was not the time to worry about the state of her ruined clothes, even her undergarments. Especially while she was struggling to keep that fuzzy darkness from claiming her. If she blacked out now, she was dead.

Granted, she didn’t have very high odds if she managed to stay conscious, either.

 _I’m sorry, Kanji-kun_. She could already see the guilt in her friend’s face, hear the grief in his voice. Even if he did hear them—they were on the roof and the boy was in the lobby, likely still half-collapsed from exhaustion—he’d likely never be able to make it in time in his condition. And, God forbid that he would, as he’d still be too tired and exhausted to fight. He’d only end up being forced to watch—and to end up as the next victim.

The figure—a young but tall boy—stepped completely out of the fog, the red moon illuminating him fully. He looked down at her with a thin smile, contempt clear in his cool grey eyes. His short hair was a deep red, its bright shade similar to that of the fog, and he bore an x-shaped, jagged scar on his face, the two lines crossing above his nose and just in between his eyes. He wore a Yasogami uniform, the jacket tied around his waist—half-concealing the twin scabbards secured to his belt—and a dark olive green buttoned shirt with a yellow band on his left arm.

While Naoto was certain she’d never seen anyone with hair and a scar like that—except for Master Daidara, who _did_ have a similar scar on his face—especially not at school, she couldn’t help but find something vaguely familiar about this boy.

“You dodged,” he said, his smooth voice straining against his obvious irritation. “Such a struggle you put up….” He scoffed. “You’re wasting my time.”

“Who…” Naoto asked between deep breaths, “are you?”

If she could just keep him distracted, keep him talking instead of attacking, maybe—just maybe—another Team member would arrive.

It was her only chance—there was no way she could evoke in her condition.

The boy gave another thin smile.

“I am Minazuki.” His voice was level and soft. “Sho Minazuki. I am the one who will destroy you, the Kirijo fools, and this world.”

“Nngh!” Naoto’s knees were threatening to give out beneath her. Only her firm grip on the fence behind her kept her upright—or, as upright as she could manage. “So…” she forced around her increasingly-laborious breathing, “you’re the ones… who captured Mitsuru-san, and….”

“Yes,” Minazuki cut her off. “I caught them off guard, just as I did with you here. It seems you’re not very perceptive.” He added with contempt. “Though,” he amended, bringing one hand to his mouth, pressing the katana’s handle against his lips in thought, “your intuition is impressive. For you to discern our plan after only one battle…”

_Only one? Does our struggle against the fake Ken-kun not count to him, because it wasn’t a single-combat match? Or, does he not know about…?_

There was something more important—and she still needed to keep him talking.

“It’s… an absurd scheme. What… are you trying to… summon… with that tower?”

The Tartarus from Iwatodai had been used to summon an immense and dangerous power. It wasn’t illogical to reason that this version of Tartarus may have been created for a similar purpose.

 _He said he wishes to destroy our world._ She took a long, ragged breath. _Perhaps the reason the fakes are upfront about their nature, the reason they’re making it easy to justify participating in their fights—by their rules—is because they’re gathering something needed to achieve that plan._

_The particles of—!_

“Don’t get me wrong,” Minazuki’s cool voice interrupted her realization. “That in itself is not my objective. All I want… is to grant a wish.”

“A wish…?” Naoto felt thrown. Did this boy feel loyalty to someone? Was he being controlled or manipulated? “Whose…?”

“There’s no need for you to know.”

Naoto’s frown deepened. He was far too close; he’d been slowly walking towards her the entire time. He could attack with his swords from the short distance between them—the blades would quite easily reach her throat.

Her back still burned from his first attack. She couldn’t let go of the fence behind her without risking a fall—her knees were numb. It was only by the surge of adrenaline—and, perhaps, her own stubborn will—that she hadn’t yet passed out. There was little chance of her being able to dodge even a telegraphed attack.

 _His next strike will cost me my life._ Her stomach turned. _I have to—!_

“You… kidnapped Labrys,” she fought to keep the desperation out of her voice, “and attempted… to collect our Personas before. But… that’s not the case this time.” _Just keep talking. Keep him talking. Just… keep… breathing…._ “You’re using Mitsuru-san and… her team as hostages, and you’ve… prepared fake version of us to fight.”

Minazuki made a low humming sound, but said nothing.

“There’s only one reason why you’d create such elaborate imitations of us,” Naoto was able to steady her voice further, “even to the point of summoning Personas, and have them challenge us.” She glared at him, locking gazes with his grey eyes. “You set this entire scenario up so that we wouldn’t think twice about fighting! You wanted to keep us from attempting to decipher the Shadows’ motivations, to trick us into playing along, while you gathered the shining particles our battles and subsequent defeat of your fakes created.”

“Again, your intuition is impressive,” Minazuki said, a hint of admiration in his voice. “By forcing you to fight in this fog, I am… _carving off_ bits of your Personas.”

“Carving off our Personas…?” Naoto echoed. 

“I’ve said too much….” Minazuki shook his head. “It seems our guests of honor have arrived.”

He looked upwards, narrowing his eyes against the red fog.

Could he see through it?

Naoto heard a familiar sound. Something whirring in the sky above them, creating gusts of wind….

_A helicopter!_

Minazuki returned his gaze to her, offering her a smile—wider than those from before, almost genuine.

“I enjoyed my time with you,” he said. “If the opportunity arises again, I’d like to speak with you further.”

Naoto was torn between attempting to push him for more information and spitting a curse at him.

_Perhaps I’ve been spending too much time with Kanji-kun and our senpai._

The red-haired boy, however, simply leapt backward with a practiced grace, putting a several meters of distance between them.

Almost immediately, a loud shout burst from the sky above them, and a figure fell from out of the fog. They landed on the food court floor, kneeling just in front of Naoto.

Naoto knew that long, pale grey hair, the school uniform, and the metallic body parts. She’d only met the girl a couple of days prior, after all.

“L-Labrys?” She breathed.

“Don’t worry, Naoto-kun!” The robotic girl said, glancing back at her with a fierce determination. “I gotcha!”

Naoto never thought she’d be so relieved to hear any variation of the Kansai dialect. But—!

“Labrys, don’t let your guard down!” She spoke quickly. “He’s the one who attacked Mitsuru-san’s group!”

“This guy…?” She looked at the red-haired boy. “But, he don’t look nothin’ like—!”

“Our guests of honor have arrived,” he repeated. “I’ve been waiting for you, Shadow Operatives.”

Naoto looked at Labrys, as the robot stood up, drawing the axe from her back. The weapon was taller than its owner and nearly as wide. No human would be able to lift it, let alone wield it in combat. Labrys lowered the axe, the head effectively shielding Naoto from Minazuki.

Relief finally set in. Naoto realized that the immediate danger to her life was over—assuming Labrys’s Persona had granted her some type of healing ability. Her wound still needed attention, but bleeding out would likely still require a few more minutes. She hoped.

When the surge of adrenaline wore off, would she even be able to remain conscious?

The sounds of the helicopter grew louder, heralding its gradual decent out of the fog. It hovered several dozen meters above them.

 _Ken-kun was right. Their helicopter can operate during the Dark Hour,_ She mused. _It has a Plume of Dusk installed in it, just like Labrys and Aigis._

She shook her head. She really must have been relieved at Labrys’s rescue, if she allowed her thoughts to get away from her like this.

“Who’re you?” Labrys’s voice jolted her back to the task at hand. “Why’re you doin’ all this?”

“Who am I,” Minazuki echoed. He hummed to himself. “That constant question.” Irritation crept back into his voice. “It’s quite intriguing that a machine created for suppressing Shadows would ask it, though.”

 “What?” Labrys inhaled.

“But first,” Minazuki ignored her, “let me see the rest of you….”

He stared at the robot, as a teal light erupted around him. A dark figure emerged from behind him, launching itself into the sky, towards the helicopter.

 _He has a Persona!_ Naoto’s eyes widened.

“No!” Labrys yelled. “Yukari-san! Kikuno-san!”

Naoto’s breath caught in her throat again. Even if everyone on the helicopter were Persona-users, it didn’t change the fact that they were human—and mortal. If the helicopter was brought down by Minazuki’s Persona, even the best-case scenario would result in them being critically wounded.

“Isis!” A feminine voice cut through the foggy air. “Garudyne!”

A burst of wind swirled around the helicopter, the light green energy pushing back the black Persona.

“Ah, quite the Persona-user,” Minazuki said. “However—!”

The Persona from the helicopter—too far to make out any real detail—collided with Minazuki’s. The boy groaned in pain, clenching at his forehead with one hand.

 _A Persona is intrinsically linked to its user,_ Naoto noted to herself, recalling the first time Yu had explained it to her. _We are them, and they are us. What one feels, so does the other._

A burst of light erupted from the collision, sending out more particles, the grains of light dispersing towards the Yasogami-Tartarus tower.

While the dark Persona was incapacitated, however, a lone figure leapt from the helicopter. Naoto didn’t look at the new arrival at first, instead watching as the helicopter ascended again, disappearing into the fog, the sound of its blades growing quieter as it flew off.

 _Was that it’s intent…?_ Naoto started.

“Whew, that was close,” the newcomer said lightly. “But, now that we’re here, you don’t get to do whatever you want anymore!”

Naoto looked at the pink-clad woman. Wait, she was—!

“Pink Argus?” Naoto exclaimed.

“Hmm?” She glanced back at the young detective.

Naoto felt heat spread across her face.

Of course. She’d read the file. Yukari Takeba. Member of the Auxiliary Shadow Operatives. And, actress playing the lead role in the newest incarnation of Featherman.

Not that Naoto had the show set to record, or anything of the sort. She’d simply read it in her file.

 _Now is not the time to act like a crazed fanboy,_ she scolded herself. She must’ve been losing composure from blood loss….

“You’re Naoto Shirogane, yes?” Yukari asked. “Don’t worry, we’ll handle things from here.” She blinked for a moment, before running to the detective’s side. “Oh, you’re injured! Let me get that for you.” A burst of light appeared as the woman’s Persona materialized again, hovering just above them. Naoto felt the familiar wave of cool energy wash over her, soothing the pain. Her knees stopped trembling, slowly regaining feeling, and she loosened her grip on the fence. She had used Diarahan, judging by how fast and completely it eliminated the pain.

“I’ve closed the wound,” Yukari spoke again. “It should’ve also helped you recover some blood. It’s not a perfect heal, though—it will probably scar, and I can’t do anything about your clothes. You should be careful not to push yourself for the rest of the night. Only fight if you absolutely must.” She looked at her companion. “Labrys!” She stepped in front of the robot, glaring at their enemy. “I’m trusting Naoto-kun with you!” She raised her bow, taking aim.

“Gotcha!” Labrys shot Naoto a grin. “You don’t hafta worry about a thing now!”

“So, the players are finally beginning to gather.” Minazuki smirked. “It’s nice to meet you. I am Minazuki. Sho Minazuki. Welcome… to _his_ world.”

_His world?_

“I wanted to meet you all,” Minazuki said “especially Kirijo. You are the ones who killed his father, after all?”

“What’re you talking about?” Yukari lowered her bow the slightest amount. “We’ve never—!”

“Dunno,” Labrys cut her off. “Dun really matter, either.”

“I have no intention of fighting you now.” Minazuki’s smirk turned to a sneer. “I only wished to see the faces of those….” He trailed off, scoffing lightly to himself.

 _Does he seek revenge against…?_ Naoto mused. She let go of the fence, finding that her knees—though a bit sore—were perfectly willing to hold her upright again.

“I’ll be heading back, now,” Minazuki didn’t give her time to think further. “Take your time here.”

“What?” Yukari raised her bow again. “If you think you’re gonna—!”

Minazuki raised his hand, and laughter rang through the food court.

 _I know that laugh._ Naoto’s stomach turned to ice.

A new figure emerged from the shadows of the red fog.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” the Yasogami uniform-clad figure said with a crooked smirk. “I’ll be your opponent.” The Shadow’s eyes locked with Naoto’s; the glowing yellow color sent a chill down her spine.

_This again?_

“What the…?” Yukari gaped. “What’s going—Another Naoto-kun?”

The fake Shadow gave a dark chuckle that—just as the real one’s had—erupted into a burst of loud, maniacal laughter. A dark, imposing voice echoed in Naoto’s memory.

_You were the most unstable of the lot!_

 

…

…

 

Naoki frowned, glancing over to his friend on the other end of the couch.

Naoto had fallen asleep. Again.

Unlike the last time, however, she hadn’t managed to last through the first half-hour of a single movie before she’d practically passed out. She had fallen over slightly, half-slumped over the arm of the couch, and was twitching slightly.

 _Probably dreaming_ , Naoki figured.

“Hmm?” Kanji noticed Naoki looking over him at her. He followed his gaze to their sleeping friend. “Huh,” he kept his voice low. “Guess she’s tired.”

 Naoki gave a short, soft laugh.

“That is usually the cause, yes.” His expression hardened. “Is she okay?”

“Whadaya mean?” Kanji looked at him. “Why’re ya asking me for?”

“Uh,” Naoki hesitated. “I… I saw you guys outside the textile shop last night.” He’d noticed them when he’d looked out his bedroom window. They’d been standing just outside the storefront, apparently talking, Kanji’s back towards the liquor store. Yet, they’d appeared to be standing rather close to each other, and even from a distance, Naoki had been able to see how red Naoto’s face was.

“Huh?” Kanji blinked. “Th-that—!” He cut himself off, glancing at Naoto before lowering his voice. “It wasn’ like that, man. Rise’s back for ‘er break; she jus’ dragged Naoto along, I swear.” Despite his words insisting otherwise, the tall boy’s face had turned an even deeper shade of red than Naoto’s had been the previous night. 

Naoki looked at him for a long moment. Ice formed in his stomach.

“All right.” He looked away.

He suddenly didn’t really want to pursue that line of thought, after all.

Naoto muttered something incoherent, her face tensing and her visible hand balling into a fist. Whatever she was dreaming about, it wasn’t pleasant.

“That would explain why she’s so tired,” Naoki said with a dry laugh. “Isn’t she normally an extremely light sleeper?”

“I dunno.” Kanji looked at the TV, despite neither of them having any real interest in the movie onscreen.

Naoki chose to ignore it.

“I assume Rise, uh, commanded most of her night, then?” He eventually asked. “It would

explain her exhaustion.” 

“I dunno,” Kanji repeated. “They left after my class. I only caught Naoto for that one minute ta ask about…” he trailed off. “Uh, to ask somethin’.”

“I see.” Naoki knew that Kanji was keeping something from him, and it made the ice in his gut form needles. If Kanji knew what was upsetting her, he apparently wasn’t going to—

 _Wait_.

“You don’t think it’s Takazawa-senpai, do you?” Naoki asked. “I mean, you think she’s still upset about—?”

“No,” Kanji cut him off. “She’s probably totally forgotten ‘bout that asshat by now; she has enough on ‘er mind. And,” his scowl deepened, “don’t call tha’ bastard ‘senpai.’ He don’ deserve it.” Kanji staggered to his feet. He glanced at Naoto—still twitching in her sleep, occasionally muttering something they couldn’t quite make out—before looking at Naoki. “I gotta… don’t worry about pausin’ it.” He nodded at the TV. “I’ll be back.” Kanji stumbled out of Naoki’s living room into the hall.

Naoki wasn’t even sure he remembered what movie they were watching. A sci-fi flick Naoto had brought, with some foreign title he couldn’t pronounce. German, maybe?

As he glanced at the screen—an armor-clad alien shouting in a fictional language—he wondered just how anyone could sleep through the noise, let alone a light sleeper like Naoto. He turned slightly to look at her.

Her hat was lying crookedly on her head, covering her eyes more than the area a hat was meant to. Her hair was disheveled, a chunk of the dark strands fanned out slightly over her cheek. One arm was completely obscured under her side, the opposite hand lying on the armrest next to her face. It was balled into a fist that kept opening slightly and twitching shut again. Her uniform jacket’s top two buttons were undone, revealing the white shirt underneath.

Naoki recalled how some of the other guys from school had talked about watching girls sleep. He’d thought that it was creepy beyond words; it still was.

Regardless, he couldn’t help but note how wrong they’d been.

There was absolutely nothing peaceful about Naoto right now, despite her slumber. In fact, she was probably having a nightmare. Not that she’d ever admit to it. She was far too proud to admit that something as ‘insignificant’ as a dream could affect her, mentally or emotionally.

Naoki stood up. He needed a drink. A cold one.

He looked at her again and frowned.

He grabbed the maroon throw blanket from the back of the couch. Slowly—terrified of her guaranteed rage if he woke her and she caught him—he draped the blanket over her.

Naoto’s hand grabbed his wrist. Naoki froze.

She muttered something barely audible—the first coherent word since she’d fallen asleep—and released him. Though she didn’t wake, her face visibly relaxed, and she turned slightly, knocking her hat onto the floor.

Naoki took a sharp step back, staring, completely oblivious to his leg bumping the table behind him. His throat constricted.

That had—that…

He quickly walked out of the room and into the kitchen.

He needed a drink. Something cold.

And preferably caffeinated.

He opened the fridge and pulled a single can out of it. He’d barely closed the door when his knees began to give out beneath him. He stumbled backwards, allowing himself to slowly stagger to the floor. He sat, leaning against the cupboard behind him.

He struggled with the can’s tag for a few moments, before simply pressing the cool aluminum to his forehead. He’d have to wait for his fingers to cooperate again.

That had….

That had really hurt.

Why? Why had that hurt so much? It hadn’t even come as a surprise—half the school knew—yet….

Yet, for some reason, hearing even a subconscious admission had made the ice in his stomach suddenly pierce every organ in his body.

“Naoki?” A soft voice broke his thoughts.

He looked up to see his mother—still wearing her work apron—standing near the fridge. She was looking down at him, one eyebrow raised in obvious concern. She placed a bottle of wine on the counter next to the fridge.

“Is everything all right?”

Naoki looked at the floor, slowly rolling the can against his forehead.

“Yeah. I just… need a minute.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” She asked.

He looked up at her again.

It was hard to look her in the eye anymore. Not that it had ever been easy, but it had grown harder over the past year-and-a-half. The woman’s gentle grey eyes, wavy light brown hair, modest chin and jaw line, and soft nose—it wasn’t his father that Naoki took after in looks.

Which meant that he wasn’t the only one that looked like his mother. _Had_ looked.

He couldn’t imagine how his mother felt when she looked at him.

The cold pain in his gut spiked again.

Naoki shook his head.

“I’ll be fine, Mother. Don’t worry.”

_I’m certainly not the only one who…_

His mother gave him a long look, before leaving the kitchen again—presumably to return to the store.

He managed to get his fingers to cooperate again, opening his soda. He took a long, slow sip. The cool liquid didn’t really do much to help, but it gave him something else to focus on for a minute.

His peace was short-lived; after only a few moments, he heard a rather loud sound from the living room. Voices, he quickly determined.

 _Shouting_ , he clarified. _What the hell…?_

He stood up, managing to walk back to the room.

“—Tellin’ ya, yer completely missin’ the point!” Kanji’s voice finished. He adjusted his glasses, glaring down at Naoto. The young detective had apparently woken up at some point and was now standing between the low table and the couch—the blanket discarded on the latter, hat still on the floor—returning her friend’s hard look.

“The point?” She echoed, her voice straining slightly from the rising pressure and volume. “I am perfectly aware of what the point is, Kanji-kun; I’m neither incognizant nor unintelligent!”

“Uh, guys?” Naoki said, unable to raise his voice. Due to this, they didn’t appear to hear him, caught up in their argument.

“I never said ya w—!”

“Do not make the assumption that I am unaware of what you are attempting to do!” Naoto cut him off again. She pointed a finger at his chest. “I am not a child; I do not need you—or the others—coddling or chaperoning me!”

“I never tried ta—!”

“I am perfectly aware of my limitations!”

“Guys?” Naoki spoke a little louder, clearing his throat. _If a customer downstairs—or my parents—hears this…._

They still didn’t hear him.

“Are ya gonna lemme finish a senten—!” Kanji grabbed a fistful of his hair in one hand.

“I am not a fragile dotard who needs someone to stand over her shoulder, lest she botch the situation!” Naoto’s voice had completely slipped into a softer-pitched register—Naoki assumed it was her natural pitch—though it had taken on a sharp edge.

“Since when have I _ever_ done that?” Kanji finally finished a thought.

“And!” Naoto jabbed a finger at him. “While we’re—!” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply through her nose. She glanced around down at the floor, noticing something. She used one foot to kick a nearby ottoman—normally against the armchair—in front of her and stood up onto it. The added height allowed her to glare at Kanji directly, their faces—and gazes—even and on level.

It only lasted a moment, as Kanji instantly took a step back, surprise jolting on his face, overriding his previous frustration.

“And, while we’re on the subject, there is something else that needs to be brought to attention!” Naoto pointed directly at his face. Kanji stammered something incoherent, turning to look at the floor while she continued. “Do not think I am unaware of what you and the others are doing! I know that I am—!”

“ _Guys!_ ” Naoki snapped. “Calm the hell down!”

That got Naoto’s attention, who half turned to blink at him.

Kanji however, seemed to be unreachable by this point.

“Fine!” He snapped, glaring at Naoto again. His hands were in tight fists, the tendons twitching visibly over his wrists. “Do what ya want! I don’ care! If ya really wanna do this alone _so much_ , then I’ll jus’ leave!”

“What?” Naoto turned back to him, her voice barely audible.

Her suddenly change in demeanor apparently wasn’t enough, however. Kanji turned and stormed around the table and out of the room, brushing past Naoki in a manner that suggested that he didn’t even notice their friend was in the room.

“Kanji!” Naoki called after him, but didn’t follow. He looked back at Naoto.

She was staring at the doorway, eyes wide in a pained expression, mouth open in shock. Naoto closed her mouth. She looked at the floor, eyes narrowing.

Naoki noticed the glimmer in her eyes.

Was she crying? He felt his lungs constrict. Naoto did _not_ cry. No more than Kanji would write a soliloquy or Yu would kick a cat. He didn’t know what to do. What _could_ he do?

_What the hell is going on?_

“Uh,” Naoki started. He took a few steps in her direction.

The movie—completely forgotten by this point—continued to play in the tense lull.

Naoto stumbled off of the ottoman and collapsed back onto the couch. She leaned forward, picking her hat up off the floor. She put it on, pulling the brim down to cover her eyes. 

“I apologize, Naoki-kun,” she said quietly, recovering her voice’s usual pitch. “My outburst was completely unbecoming, and inconsiderate to you, your family, and your business.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. “I truly am an utter imbecile.”

“No, you’re not,” Naoki said softly. “You just got upset. It happens. Kanji will forgive you. I’ve yelled at him, too.”

Naoto looked up at him.

“I have difficulty imagining you yelling at anyone, let alone at Kanji-kun.” She saw straight through the lie.

_She’s sharp enough to deduce that, but can’t figure out that Kanji…?_

“I could say the same about you, until just now,” Naoki said. He walked over to the side of the couch. “If I hadn’t just seen it with my own eyes, I’d have never believed it.”

“I am truly sorry,” Naoto repeated, looking away again. “I don’t… I don’t understand….” She trailed off.

“If you’re upset, you can talk to me about it, you know.” Naoki looked at the floor. “Kanji, too.” He sighed. “We’re… here for you, Naoto-kun.”

“I know. It was wrong of me to assume—I was wrong.” She cut herself off.

They were clearly keeping something from him.

Before, Naoki had only ever worried that—if his two friends ever stopped circling around each other long enough to realize that they were attracted to each other—and if they managed to do something about that fact—that he would then be left behind. It hadn’t been a major worry—they both had proven to value their friendship with him, even separately from the usual trio.

But, now he was terrified that one of them might accidently push the other in the wrong way—much like what had apparently happened tonight—and end the friendship in a much more aggressive manner.

Naoki figured he’d much rather be left behind because his friends were happy than to be caught between them in a feud.

Even if just the idea of the former left him with a constricting pain in his chest that he didn’t really know how to address.

“D-do you want to?” Naoki asked, hesitating. “Talk about it, I mean!” He added hastily, heat spreading across his face.

_Yeah, that wasn’t creepy or anything._

“…No,” Naoto said in a low voice. “I’m… simply giving Kanji-kun time to reach his home. I shall return to mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I… I need to be alone, now.”

Naoki frowned.

“Naoto, you don’t have to—uh,” he cut himself off when she sharply looked up at him. Her face was blank. “Naoto-kun.” He corrected himself. “I, uh…” He looked away again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean….”

“Your concern is noted, Naoki-kun.” He heard her stand up. “And… and it is appreciated.” She walked past him towards the doorway. “I will see you in class tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Naoki pivoted to face her.

She stopped but did not do the same.

“Don’t….” He started. “Uh, don’t wait until Monday. Please. To, uh….”

“I shall rectify the situation with Kanji-kun before the weekend is over.” She paused. “Do not worry about me. Good night, Naoki-kun.”

She walked down the hallway and vanished into the store.

Naoki sighed. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket with his free hand.

They were keeping something from him, and it was something serious enough that it had Naoto wound tight enough to crack like that. That they were keeping him out of the loop of something so important… it made Naoki’s stomach churn. He knew that Naoto and Kanji both had… certain difficulties with social interaction, but they’d spent all summer building a friendship with him, making an effort to include him, to not keep secrets that would affect him.

So, what was going on?

Naoki brought up Kanji’s last message in his phone’s inbox.

 _Well, we can start with learning what the hell_ that _was about…._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: KawaiiBoushi made a headcanon post on Tumblr that inspired the ottoman thing during the rather one-sided argument. She's a great writer and a fellow KanNao shipper, so go check out her writings too (especially Downward Spiral). 
> 
> (I hate writing characters I like having an argument)


	14. Calamity

Kanji lay sprawled out on his futon, his phone resting on his chest. The screen was still on; no matter how many times he checked it, the message was not going to change.

_I WAS WRONG. I AM SORRY._

He sighed.

It wasn’t like he could pretend the argument—if Naoto’s explosion and his, admittedly horrible, reaction could be called an argument—didn’t happen.

Especially when he would have to see her again in just a few minutes; Yosuke was having them all meet up at the Shrine at beginning of the Dark Hour. Rise needed to get up to speed, and everyone needed to touch base with each other in general. They’d mostly laid low over the past several days. Yosuke had determined that it had been too dangerous, that they couldn’t guarantee that they’d be able to meet up, even in small teams, every night. It helped that the info Mitsuru had given them appeared to be right; so long as they stayed indoors, they would be safe from any Shadows.

Kanji just hoped that no one else got hurt while they regrouped. There hadn’t been any gossip in town about anyone suffering from that weird Syndrome thing Naoto had described to the Team—and that was something the local housewives and gossips would never be able to shut up about. Between his work in the textile shop, Rise’s work in her grandmother’s tofu shop, Yukiko’s work at the inn, and the indirect information Naoki overheard at the liquor store, it certainly wasn’t as if they could miss much of the rumors that flew around town.

Kanji frowned.

Part of him wanted to tell Naoki what was going on. If the process of doing so wasn’t kind of difficult to force on someone—forced to face a Shadow of your biggest insecurities and secrets—he’d be tempted to drag his friend into a TV himself and get him a Persona. He had a feeling that Naoki would be more than willing to join the team otherwise, and to fight alongside them. It was unfair that they were keeping things from him; Kanji and Naoto had both grown dependent on the trio they’d form in some manner or another. That reliance was mutual. Naoki needed them as much as they needed him. To cut him off, and so suddenly, felt _wrong_.

Kanji wondered what Naoki’s Persona would look like, what its name would be, what element they would use.

Kanji took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He took off his glasses, absent-mindedly tossing them aside. He picked up his phone, turning the screen on again.

_I WAS WRONG. I AM SORRY._

Still hadn’t changed, of course.

She hadn’t sent another message, either.

Kanji’s frown deepened. He wondered if she’d stayed at Naoki’s after he’d left, or if she’d gone home, too: if she was now stewing in whatever problems had her wound so tight in the solitude of her apartment, or if Naoki was caught awkwardly trying to comfort someone who wasn’t exactly skilled with showing emotions. Either way, it was his fault. Yeah, she’d overreacted at—whatever it was, he wasn’t really sure what had set her off, maybe stress had just finally twisted her too far—but Kanji had done a pretty shitty job at keeping his own temper under control. Maybe, if he’d kept his cool and had handled the situation better, she might have calmed down faster. She might have even explained why she’d suddenly woke up in such a foul mood.

He knew that Naoto wasn’t always exactly pleasant when she woke up, but she’d never gone off on someone like that because of it. He’d actually only ever heard of or witnessed her lose her temper a handful of times. The first one he’d ever heard of was when Aika’d told him about how she’d witnessed the young detective arguing with that asshat Adachi. Then, he’d heard her blow up at Dojima over the phone after she’d shown up at the older detective’s house to find that his daughter had been the next kidnapping victim. She’d technically blown up at _herself_ after they’d rescued Nanako and brought her to the hospital. And, of course, she’d given Adachi a second earful when they’d confronted him in the twisted version of Inaba in the TV world. He’d seen her snap at Rise once or twice, too, but nothing like those times.

And, nothing like what she’d done tonight.

Kanji turned the screen on again, fingers hovering the keyboard. After a long moment, he brought up the call screen, punching in the number manually. He exhaled slowly again as he brought the speaker to his ear.

“ _Hello, this is Detective Shirogane,_ ” her voicemail picked up. Kanji’s gut churned with guilt.“ _I am currently unavailable. Please leave a message and I’ll return your call at the earliest opportunity._ ”

Kanji inhaled sharply.

“H-hey,” he started. “’S me.” Of course, she’d know that. She knew his voice by now. “J-just wanted ta… I… I’m sorry, too.” He said softly. He hoped she would be able to hear it. “And, I’m sorry if I ever made ya feel….” He hesitated. “I-I’ll see ya later, yeah?” He hung up.

 _Oh, yeah._ That _wasn’t totally pathetic._

He decided to look at Naoki’s text, to get all of the awkwardness over at once. He’d still been too mad to even look at his phone when it had first vibrated in his coat pocket.

_Hey. What just happened?_

He’d just come back from the bathroom when Naoto had suddenly bolted upright, instantly awake. She’d glanced around for a moment, noticing the blanket draped over her—probably Naoki, Kanji figured—and tossing it aside like it had bit her. She’d stumbled off the couch and onto her feet when she’d noticed Kanji standing there—and had suddenly started telling him off for being overprotective.

Next thing he knew, they were on the edge of a shouting match, his blood burning—or they would have been if Kanji could have gotten a complete sentence in before he’d finally exploded and stormed out.

The guilt hadn’t even waited for the anger to fade before setting in. He’d barely made it across the street before he started feeling sick to his stomach.

But he couldn’t go back after… after _that_. What if he just set her off again?

What exactly _had_ set her off? Had it been a nightmare, had she just been confused and scared? Was she upset about something else, and—in her less-composed mindset from having just woken up—taken it out on him? It bothered him that she was still holding so much back from her friends, from the Team, from Naoki, from him.

Kanji sighed. He quickly typed out a reply.

_I fucked up. What else is new? Is she still there?_

The reply was almost immediate.

_No._

Kanji kinda wished she was. As much as it would have hurt for his temper to push her away from him and closer to Naoki at the same time—he refused to even _think_ the word _jealous_ —he’d much rather have that happen than have her be alone after their… spat.

His phone vibrated with a second reply.

_She was clearly worried that she broke things tho._

Naoki’s mostly grammatically-correct texts were usually a relief after dealing with texts from Yosuke—or worse from Rise—or how Naoto’s still felt like she was yelling everything. But, the occasional bits of text-speak still threw him for a loop.

 _Not that I have a right to say that,_ Kanji thought to himself. _I don’ exactly talk like a…._

Though, he did pride himself on the nearly-perfect grammar of his texts. Especially since Naoto had never once corrected him on any of them—unlike she had initially done with Rise, until the idol had told her to “get the stick out of her butt.”

Kanji allowed himself a small smile.

And, it was better than the one time Marie, not understanding time of day or night, had texted him at three in the morning, asking him to buy her food. It had been the only time he’d ever replied in a less than coherent manner.

Kanji decided he could at least try to ease Naoki’s worries a little.

_I called just now. I left a message, said I was sorry. Hopefully, she’ll listen to it._

He sighed.

 _Hopefully, she’ll forgive me_ , Kanji thought to himself.

His phone lit up.

_She will._

Kanji closed his phone.

Maybe he should try to distract himself until midnight. He sat up, dragging a nearby box from against the wall across the floor to the edge of his futon. He pulled the short length of light blue knitted yarn. He stared at the work-in-progress for a long moment.

He really was too far gone. He was supposed to be distracting himself from his worry over Naoto, and here he was, choosing to do that by working on a gift for her.

He wanted to finish it soon though. Kanji had noticed that Naoto seemed to get cold easily. She was the last of their friends to wear her lightest outfits during the past spring, and he’d noticed that she was among the first in the entire school to start wearing her uniform jacket, even if she took it off upon arrival to follow dress code; at least, as much as she ever followed it.

He recalled how, earlier that week, Kashiwagi had gone on one of her creepier tangents during lecture, ranting about “appropriate attire by gender” and that type of thing. More than a little hypocritical for a teacher who not only dressed like—like _that,_ Kanji’s face paled—and was clearly making passes at the male student body as a whole, but had also been in charge of the cross-dressing pageant last year—and probably would be again this year. She _had_ stressed on women’s clothing choices, not men’s, but a double standard was a double standard.

Naoto, on the other hand, apparently hadn’t even been paying attention. Kanji suspected that she could use her detective’s intuition or whatever to predict when the teacher was about to go off topic and just zoned out. This time, her eyes had glazed over slightly, the way they did whenever she was lost in thought, like when she was working something out with the Team.

Yet, maybe she had heard some of it. He had noticed that she seemed more tense after classes ended that day, her lips tight in a thin line that was neither a smile or a frown. Or, maybe she was just tired.

Which lead to another worry.

Kanji had actually been sleeping a little better the past few days. He suspected most of the Team was. After the first tense night, Kanji had decided that he wasn’t going to be killed by Shadows if he slept during the Dark Hour. In fact, it ended up helping a rather lot. While fighting and even just using a Persona during the Dark Hour apparently made the user more tired than the TV world did—and faster, too—sleeping during it seemed to help with fatigue.

But, unlike the others, Naoto seemed to be getting more and more exhausted lately. Yesterday, she’d had noticeable dark circles under her eyes, and her hair seemed a little more disheveled, even while mostly hidden under her hat. Kanji knew that he was probably the only person who noticed, but he was nervous say anything to anyone about it. Naoto would probably just deny anything was wrong—her damn, stubborn pride was worse than his—and he couldn’t tell Yosuke or the others; the third-year had overreacted the other night. Kanji had never seen him worry over anyone like that, especially not Naoto. In fact, Yosuke had been pretty freaked out the first time he’d seen Naoto land a particularly strong blow on a Shadow—it had been her face that had really unnerved him, calm and nearly emotionless.

So, why did Yosuke suddenly think of Naoto as—?

Was the real source of Naoto’s anger and frustration _Yosuke?_

Kanji sighed.

He was _supposed_ to be distracting himself from all this.

Scarf. He was making a scarf.

It was one of two he was planning to give to Naoto, to help her fight off the cold. He’d already finished the first one: a thinner, cloth one, made out of fabric he’d dyed himself, a marbling between a soft, sky blue and a bright blue that was the closest he could manage to the shade of the coat she’d worn during their first meeting. The edges were delicately patterned with white thread, the tassels at both ends gradually shading to that same sky blue. The corner of one end had an image sewn in with navy thread: a simple cartoon of her original Persona’s head. She’d really liked the Sukuna-Hikona plush he had made during the summer—he’d made one of everyone’s original Personas, working with Yu to make sure he’d gotten every detail right—so he figured she’d like this, too.

But, that scarf, while well-made and admittedly one of his best works so far, wouldn’t do much when winter really set in. So, he decided to make a thicker one, too, picking the best yarn he could afford, being careful with each stitch to make sure that he didn’t leave any gaps that the cold could get through. He also had a skein of a dark blue fringe yarn to work into each end and the tassels.

He wondered, as he slowly knitted the light blue yarn, if she had good enough blankets for the winter. Someone as stubborn about efficiency as Naoto would never turn the heat above what was absolutely necessary. Maybe he could make that his next project—or would that be creepy?

Kanji frowned at the gradually forming scarf in his lap.

 _Damn it_ , he sighed. The last row of stitching wasn’t good enough. He slowly unraveled it, biting back a flurry of curses with each centimeter of yarn.

 

…

…

 

“All right, I’m here. Now, give me some answers already, you bastard.”

“All in due time, friend,” the man said from the shadows of the back alley.

Akira couldn’t make out much detail of his appearance, just that he appeared to be just above average in height, and of average build, but it was hard to properly determine through his heavy long coat and knit cap.

“You’re lucky I didn’t just turn you into the cops,” Akira said, waving a small piece of paper with messy handwriting. “I would have, but you—”

“No, you wouldn’t have.” He interrupted her. “You would have had to risk discovery to do that. And, you won’t do that. Not until you have answers at least. Or, am I wrong?”

Akira made an incoherent noise.

“Who are you?”

“A friend,” he said simply. “The only one who will give you answers.”

“I don’t have friends,” she insisted. “That I remember, very clearly.”

She paused. No, that wasn’t quite right, was it?

Best to not reveal that, though.

“Perhaps.” He stepped into the dim light of the alley. “What’s clear is that you don’t recall who—or what—you are. Which is to be expected, all things considered.”

“What makes you so sure?” Akira asked.

“Well, besides the fact that you listened to the note I slipped you at the pub and came here tonight to meet me? And the fact that you _just_ insisted that I give you answers?” He chuckled. “How about the fact that you didn’t tear me to shreds upon sight.”

“Why would I do that?” Akira narrowed her eyes.

“So, you genuinely don’t remember a thing since the rewrite.”

“The what?”

“How solid are your memories of your life before the… kidnapping?” The man asked. “How clear are the faces? The voices? Are there chunks that seem to be missing in an irregular manner? Are there things you could remember, say, a week ago, that are now getting harder and harder to recall?”

Akira took a step backwards.

“Who the hell are you?” She practically growled. “What the hell did you do to me?” Her voice cracked.

The man sighed.

“I’d rather hoped that you would have been developed enough to trust me a bit more explicitly. That you would have stabilized a bit more by now.”

“If you don’t explain what the hell is going on, I might just tear you apart anyway,” Akira snapped.

“I highly doubt that.” The man coughed once. “You are still an obedient dog, after all.” He paused, looking at the woman’s glare.

“I only have a half-hour break, and I doubt my patience will last for even half of it. Speak.”

“Of course, but, I daresay this will take a bit longer than that.”

“Then speak quickly,” Akira said.

“Or, we can extend our time together.”

“Was I unclear?” Akira said. “I know my Japanese isn’t exactly the best, but allow me to reiterate—!”

“Just shut up for a minute.” The man walked up to her. “It’s something you’ll just have to experience.”

“What are you doing?” She took a step back.

He was fast—even with her trained instincts, she couldn’t stop him before he was right in front of her, and jabbed her—hard—in the neck with something. A burning sensation spread from the point of contact.

“ _What the fuck did you just_ —!”

“I just gave us a whole extra hour to talk.” The man pulled out a second syringe, quickly jabbing himself in the same spot, hissing sharply as he injected the strange, black liquid into his vein. “So,” he said with a deep breath. “Why don’t we get started?”

“Who the hell are you?” She repeated.

“I think,” the man looked up at the half-moon in the night sky above them, “the more important question right now is: who—and what—are _you_?”

 

…

…

 

Naoto pulled her plaid blue coat together, buttoning it shut.

“I thought you only wear that during the winter,” the soft voice behind her spoke.

Naoto half-turned back to look at the blond figure behind her.

Teddie was wearing a long-sleeved, buttoned shirt—a rather distracting yellow-and-pink plaid pattern that was undoubtedly chosen by the bear without any understanding of color composition—over a white T-shirt with an orange collar and work jeans. Naoto wondered if he was able to feel the cold in the same way she did when he was in his human form.

“It is unseasonably cold for late September,” Naoto explained, turning back to the front door. It was true; said coat was usually reserved for use during midwinter, particularly over her school uniform during her commute.

“You don’t like the cold, do you, Nao-chan?”

Naoto flinched.

“I am not particularly fond of the cold on its own, no.”

She stared at the door handle.

“You are certain that there was nothing unusual about the other world?”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you!” Teddie sounded indignant. “Are you saying that you think that something’s going to happen to it? Is that why you’ve had me check it every night after work?”

Naoto frowned.

“I am not certain if anything will happen. But, if something does change there, we need to know about it as soon as possible; we cannot risk a delayed response like during the first incident in May. If we do not react in a timely manner, our enemy may grow too powerful or be otherwise able to….” She cleared her throat. “We must remain proactive.”

“So, why is it secret from Yosuke and the others?” Teddie asked.

“The others have enough on their minds at present.” Naoto straightened her coat. “Yosuke-senpai in particular has more than enough to worry about. He is already fabricating problems where they do not exist.” She coughed once. “The others do not need the distraction, particularly if nothing comes of it. If a change occurs, we will discover it and inform the others promptly.”

“What about the exit TVs?” Teddie asked. “Why’d you want me to leave more at a new entrance from _your_ TV? We don’t usually go in through your TV.”

Naoto hesitated.

That was mostly a precaution, something she had set in place just in case Akira _was_ able to travel through a television screen to that world, so the woman wouldn’t be stranded if she accidentally tumbled into Naoto’s.

Granted, that would require someone explaining to Akira about the other world and how one entered it through televisions and everything that included. Naoto didn’t think that the woman would disbelieve it—not after everything else she’d already encountered—but the detective wasn’t sure she’d really properly accept it, or the dangers involved.

There was also the secondary—or, what she tried to tell herself was the secondary—reason for having Teddie set up a safe exit from his world at her television.

The Midnight Channel was peaceful again, but it wasn’t completely safe; if an individual without a Persona—at least, one of a certain age or maturity—found themselves placed into that world, a dungeon would form around them, and Shadows would swarm, drawn to the one born of said individual’s negative emotions and insecurities. Regardless, a Persona user would be at little to no risk of serious danger—so long as they remained near the entrance, if nothing else.

And, the previous battle still weighed heavily on Naoto’s mind. If she couldn’t properly evoke her Persona in combat, then she would not only be putting herself in danger—most of her combat strength came from her Persona’s abilities—but those who depended upon her as well.

It was a thought—and a gruesome image—that had plagued her already-limited sleep for the past several nights. She’d tried to fight it off, using the Dark Hour to practice evoking, to make sure that she could call on her Persona without incident. While it had been far more exhausting to execute than it had been previously, she’d managed to evoke successfully on each attempt—until last night.

She’d managed to make a card appear the first time, but it had been utterly blank and shooting it had done nothing but consume her energy. 

Worse, practicing during the Dark Hour, especially alone, was exhausting to the point that it was actually difficult to sleep at night. It was a major part of why she’d fallen asleep during the trio’s attempt to watch movies at Naoki’s that night.

She needed someplace safer to practice. Something that wouldn’t detract on her ability to perform well in school, with the Team, or with work. If she let any one of those slip, she—and a lot of people, especially the Team and the Shadow Operatives—could be in a lot of trouble from whoever this unseen enemy was.

“It’s simply a precaution,” Naoto eventually settled on as they left. She didn’t want to unload the entirety of her reasoning on the humanized bear Shadow—and, admittedly, wasn’t sure he would quite understand. And, she didn’t want to burden him with her problems, anyway. It was hard enough knowing that Kanji, Naoki and Yosuke were each worried about her—at the very least, and the rest of the Team very well might have been as well, especially if the others had expressed their concerns to them—but to sour Teddie’s bright and optimistic outlook?

 _That would be a truly horrendous thing to do consciously,_ Naoto thought to herself.

If nothing else, her situation permitted her an opportunity to grant Teddie happiness, rather than destroy it.

“It’s important that you do not tell the others about this,” Naoto led him down to the street. “Do you understand?”

“Not really,” Teddie said with a sigh.

“Yosuke-senpai and the others don’t currently concern themselves with the fact that I own a television large enough for us to pass through,” Naoto explained as they started down towards the Shopping District. “We—the entire Team—have far more pressing matters to concern ourselves with at the moment. If Yosuke-senpai or the rest of the Team considered it, they would only worry themselves needlessly over it. Especially after Kanji-kun stumbled into his family’s television in his sleep during the incident with Labrys. It’ll leave an out if our current charge truly does already possess the ability to travel through the television to your world. We’ve been trusted to watch and protect her, so it’s prudent to do so.

“However,” she cleared her throat, glancing down at the sidewalk, “with more direct threats like the Dark Hour and the aberrant Shadow, they do not need other fears to distract them. The only way we’ll overcome our current predicament is if everyone remains cohesive and focused upon it; we each have to be at our best. If the others are excessively concerned over my well-being, they won’t be properly focused.”

“So, I can’t tell them?” Teddie asked. “But… but, I can know?”

“Yes, Teddie.” Naoto nodded. “I’m trusting you with this. It’s very important that you do this for me. All right?” She glanced back at him.

The bear blinked a few times with a blank expression, his blue eyes too bright to hold his gaze. He eventually smiled, before nodding once. Naoto looked forward again.

“All righty! It’s beary important to Nao-chan, so I’ll keep it secret.” He didn’t seem to notice her flinch. “So,” his tone calmed down, “we’re going to the Shrine again, right? Why not Junes?”

“It’d be suspicious to have a bunch of high school students loitering around the Junes food court at midnight, whereas there is less reason to notice a group of friends near one of their respective homes.” She frowned. She wasn’t wholly comfortable with the idea of being so close to Kanji’s home at the moment—or with being teamed up with him for the night—not after their argument.

Well, to be fair, it had been mostly her who had blown up at him, until he’d finally had enough. She knew—logically—that he’d been just as wrong to snap, but she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the whole thing.

His presence was usually a comfort—though she was reluctant to admit it aloud—and now she was nervous that she’d ruined that. All because that ludicrous memory kept reemerging in her dreams—and because her sleep schedule had been all but completely trashed. She knew she wasn’t usually exactly pleasant upon waking. Few others did, however, due to her solitary lifestyle. That was her own fault, she admitted to herself.

She pulled out her phone.

_NEW VOICEMAIL. KANJI-KUN._

She blinked.

 _He must have attempted to call me while Teddie and I were checking on the Midnight Channel._ Her stomach felt light. She had a feeling she knew what the message left entailed, and the thought made guilt start to bubble in her gut.

“I have to check a voicemail before we arrive,” she informed Teddie, slowing down to let him lead the way down the sidewalk. She slipped back further, to prevent him from overhearing whatever was left—what if he’d left a shouting—no, she cut the thought short immediately. Kanji might be a loud, boisterous person in a lot of ways, and with rough, unpolished edges, but he’d never acted with true malicious intent to any of his friends. His violent behavior had mostly been hot air, with very few actual victims. In fact, nearly all of those he’d actually started a fight with had been in that biker gang he’d fought shortly before the Inaba case.

She braced herself, before pressing the buttons necessary and bringing her phone to her ear.

“ _H-hey. ’S me._ ” Kanji’s shaking tone made the guilt in her gut increase to a boil. “ _J-just wanted ta… I…._ ” His voice then lowered to a whisper, one she could barely make out. “ _I’m sorry, too._ ” The pause was long enough for a bitter taste to form in her mouth. “ _And, I’m sorry if I ever made ya feel…._ ” She stumbled a step. “ _I-I’ll see ya later, yeah?_ ”

Naoto stopped.

“You okay, Nao-chan?” Teddie had stopped a meter or so ahead of her.

“Y-yeah,” she said with a nod. “I am all right. Sh-shall we?” She closed her phone, starting to walk again—albeit in a much stiffer manner. The faster they got there, the faster she could—

—She wasn’t sure what to do or say. She’d already apologized. But… maybe it wasn’t an acceptable manner in which to do so. Maybe she needed to say it in person. Maybe she needed to do something to make it up to him.

She just didn’t know.

As new as she was to having friends, she was newer to fighting with them.

And to making up with them after.

Naoto sighed. She looked at her phone.

They weren’t going to make it in time.

“Who was on the phone?” Teddie asked.

 _He is most certainly one relentless bear._ Naoto wasn’t sure if she wanted to sigh or smile. _Yosuke-senpai’s patience is undervalued. We should thank him for having taken Teddie under his wing in such a manner._

_Regardless of the negative effects of his influence._

She took a deep breath.

“It was a message,” she tried to say with a tone of finality.

“From who?”

 _Yosuke-senpai has the patience of a saint_ , Naoto amended her earlier thought.

She stared at her phone for a long moment.

“From whom,” she eventually said softly.

“What?” Teddie asked.

Before she could reply, every light in Inaba—every electronic device—went out at once, as the sky turned the familiar, sickly green.

Naoto sighed. She pulled out her gun, keeping a firm, proper grip on it with both hands.

“Never mind. We need to regroup with the others immediately.”

_I only hope they do not worry needlessly over us in the meantime._

 

…

…

 

Despite her thought, Naoto would not have been surprised to know that—at that very moment—Yosuke and the others were indeed worrying about her and Teddie.

Yosuke was sitting on the fence around the Shrine’s main tree, holding one kunai in a tight grip, and twirling the other absentmindedly. He was staring at the ground, eyes wide.

“Will you calm down, Yosuke?” Chie punched him lightly in the shoulder. “They’ll be fine.” Despite her words, her tone didn’t sound convincing.

“Teddie’s not hurt, senpai,” Rise said as she walked up to the others. “I can see them, you know. They’re actually almost here.” She chuckled. “In fact, judging by Naoto-kun’s reading, I’d say she’s a little annoyed with him—so there’s nothing different there.”

“I dun think she’s annoyed right now,” Kanji’s voice came from behind the tree. He was seated against it, just barely visible to the others.

“What’s wrong, Kanji-kun?” Yukiko walked around towards him.

“Did something happen?” Rise asked. She pulled briefly on the pink scarf she wore as her only additional shield from the cold besides her usual winter school uniform. “I thought you guys were…?”

“I… messed up, ‘kay?” Kanji didn’t look at them. “I—!”

“Let’s go meet up at the entrance!” Yosuke barked sharply, leaping off of the fence to his feet. “They should be here soon, so we should—yeah!” He started to run towards the street.

“What stick is up his butt lately?” Chie asked, watching him with a raised eyebrow. She hunched her shoulders slightly, bringing the inner fleece of her green winter coat closer to her face.

“You mean you don’t know?” Yukiko turned to her friend. Along with Kanji, she seemed to be the only one present that was unaffected by the cold, content with her tan, double-breasted coat and a thin, red scarf.

“Uh-uh.” Chie shook her head. “Has he said anything to you guys?”

Everyone looked at Rise.

“What?” She blinked at each of them in turn. “I just got here! Besides, it’s not like he’s ever confided that much in me.”

“But he _does_ confide in Yu-kun,” Yukiko pointed out.

“And everyone knows that you can get just about anything out of Senpai.” Kanji stood up, relieved for the distraction.

“Hey!” Rise barked. “I’m not a busybody! I don’t sneak around behind people’s backs like that! If you want to know what’s bothering Yosuke-senpai so bad, just ask him yourself! And, besides,” Rise lowered her voice, “Senpai would never betray anyone like that. Especially Yosuke-senpai.”

There was a long silence.

“Well, ain’t much we can do about it right now,” Kanji walked up to the others, swinging a large, round shield behind his back—he’d had it made at Diadara a few days prior; it was made of an incredible durable alloy, and had a simple lightning bolt design carved onto the front. He’d debated a between a skull or a bunny—between being badass or adorable—but ultimately decided to go more neutral this time. He pulled lightly on his purple hoodie with one hand. His clothes would have to suffice for both badassery and adorableness.

“I suppose.” Chie seemed a bit more upset than usual.

“C’mon!” Kanji said more firmly. “We better go make sure he don’ hurt himself! Idiot’s bound ta if he don’ keep an eye on him.” He started to walk after their friend.

“Right!” Rise said cheerfully—if a little forced. “He _does_ have the worst luck!”

Kanji heard them start to follow behind him.

“Yeah,” Chie said. “He never shuts up about it, either.”

“What do I never shut up about?” Yosuke asked, looking back at them as they joined him by the street. “You know what?” He added quickly, pulling on the hood of the blue hoodie under his uniform jacket. “Never mind. I don’t wanna know.” He looked at Rise. “Hey, Rise? Can you do a quick scan of the area? As much of Inaba as you can do without wearing yourself out?”

“Please, Yosuke-senpai, give me some credit,” Rise said with a smirk. “Even with the Dark Hour, I can easily scan all of Inaba.” She took a step back. Her card appeared before her in a glow of blue light, shattering on its own as she pressed both hands over each other on her chest. The whites, blacks, and reds of Kanzeon materialized behind her. The Persona gently lowered its visor over its owners eyes. “Hmm,” Rise hummed as she scanned the town. “Well, there are definitely a few others besides the Team that are still conscious. Mitsuru-san and Aigis-san are still here; they’re on the other end of town though. Oh, they’re moving. Quickly, too.”

“I think Naoto-kun mentioned something about a motorcycle?” Chie offered. “One that Mitsuru-san had, and could work during the Dark Hour.”

“Or, Aigis could just be carrying her,” Kanji said. “She is a robot.”

“No.” Rise shook her head. “They’re a short distance away, maybe a couple meters, and they’re side-by-side. There _is_ someone closer behind Mitsuru-san, th—oh!” Her voice brightened. “Naoto-kun was right! It’s Fuuka-san!”

“What?” Yosuke said sharply. “Fuuka-san—you mean the Shadow Ops’ support member?” He looked at the ground. “Damn it. Naoto thought Mitsuru-san was keeping things from us. I’d hoped she was wrong though. And Aigis-san hasn’t told us anything new since we had her check Akira-san out.”

“What’s she doin’?” Kanji scowled, looking at the waxing half moon. The greenish-yellow glow made the hair on the back of his neck stand. He adjusted his glasses with one hand. “Keepin’ stuff from us while we’re stuck with this every night? What if someone got hurt?”

Yosuke coughed once.

“It doesn’t matter right now; we’ll confront them about it later. This is our town, and it’s our responsibility to protect it. And—Rise?”

The others looked back to her again. She seemed concerned.

“There’s someone else. I’ve never noticed this person before. He—I think it’s a man—is moving really fast. He’s heading this way from the north. I can tell he’s not a Persona user, though. He feels… weird and—and there’s two enormous Shadows chasing him!”

“Two?” Yosuke echoed. “Damn it!” He twirled his kunai, taking his usual battle stance. “Where’s Naoto-kun and Teddie?”

“They’re still to the west. They won’t get here before the others.”

Yosuke cursed again, more bitterly this time.

“Yosuke-kun!” Yukiko scolded him.

“Where’s Mitsuru and the others?” Yosuke ignored her, the tension clear in his voice.

“They’re coming this way from the south. They should get here just after the strange man. And, maybe before the Shadows? I can’t tell; it’ll be close.”

“Okay,” Yosuke took a few, quick deep breaths, twirling one kunai in his hand. “Rise! I need you to run as fast as you can to Naoto and Teddie. They need to know what’s going on before they get here. Fuuka-san can help us until you get back. Kanji! I need you to go with her; if something—you and Naoto will be able to hold off anything you’ll find until we can regroup again.”

“Uh…” Kanji hesitated.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Yosuke’s voice nearly cracked on the last word.

“N-no, senpai!” Kanji said quickly. He wasn’t exactly eager to have _another_ person blow up at him tonight. He followed Rise, the two of them making a mad dash down the Shopping District towards Moel.

“Geez, Yosuke!” Chie barked at him. “What’s your problem lately?”

“Gee, I dunno!” Yosuke snapped back at her. He waved one kunai towards the moon. “Between the Dark Hour, Mitsuru not telling us jack shit lately, giant, weird Shadows we can’t kill, someone spying on us, _and now_ Kanji and Naoto are apparently fighting on top of all that? Maybe, freakin’ _everything?_ ”

“Well, don’t take it out on _me!_ ” Chie shouted.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to!”

“Guys!” Yukiko said. “If you don’t stop, I’ll burn both of you to ash!” She raised her fan, smashing her card to summon Amaterasu, adding extra weight to her threat.

They blinked at her and the white Persona. They exchanged a sheepish glance, before looking at the ground.

“Sorry…” Yosuke said softly. “I’m just….” He took a deep breath, before leading the girls out into the street. He resumed his stance and tightened his grip on his kunai. “I’ll worry about it later. One thing at a time.”

Before anyone could speak again, the sound of an engine heralded the arrival of a new figure astride a large motorcycle. They attempted to skid to a halt a few dozen meters away, the bike spinning out of control beneath them, sliding to the side while they continued to careen forward several more meters, slamming into the pavement and skidding along it, their body stopping just a couple meters ahead of the teenagers.

“Holy shit!” Yosuke ran up to them. “Are you all right?”

They pushed themselves up to an awkward kneel, lifting the visor of their—his, apparently this was the man Rise’d sensed—helmet to look at him.

“Considering I just got thrown from my bike from over 100 kilometers an hour,” he said between series of coughing fits, “and probably am bruised at worse, I’d say I’m doin’ pretty fuckin’ great!”

“Yeah, how _did_ you survive that?” Chie asked.

The man accepted Yosuke’s help in getting back to his feet.

“Uh…” He hesitated. “A-actually! What are you kids doin’ out here? It’s late and—!” He looked up at the moon. “Oh. Oh shit. You’re those kids, aren’t ya?”

“Hey, I recognize you!” Yukiko said, pointing her closed fan at him. Her eyes narrowed to a glare.

“Shit,” he breathed again.

“You know this guy?” Chie asked.

“He’s been staying at the inn!” Yukiko said. “I remember him because he avoided interacting with the other guests as much as possible. I remember thinking he was acting strange about it!” She opened her fan. “Are you the one who’s doing this to our town?”

“What?” The man blinked at her. “No! I’m not! I’m trying to—!”

“Why should we believe you?” Yosuke interrupted him. “You just survived a high-speed motorcycle crash without so much as a scratch! For all we know, you’re not even a real person!”

“Hey!” The man barked. “That’s a little low!” He took off his helmet, revealing the knit cap he wore underneath.

“Then, how else can you be awake now?” Chie added. “Pretty much the only ones who can be awake during the Dark Hour are Persona users and Shadows. And we know you’re not a Persona user!”

“Wha—Shadows!” The man cut himself off. “Fuck!” He cursed, half turning towards the way he came. “I fucked up! Twenty long, slow, careful years, and I fuck up _now_!”

“What are you talking about?” Yosuke asked.

“There are two Shadows coming. If you do not fight them, they will slaughter you.” He pulled something out of his jacket. They couldn’t quite tell what it was; it seemed to be folded closed on itself, but the reflection of the altered moonlight suggested it was made of metal. “Can you trust me long enough to let me help you fight them off?”

“Fight them off?” Yosuke echoed. “Why not actually beat them, so they won’t hurt anyone else?”

“You don’t want to do that,” the man said simply. “At least, not with one of these Shadows.”

“Why?” Yukiko asked.

“You’d regret it,” he eventually said. “And it may be hard to tell which one is safe to kill.”

He pulled on the device with one hand, and a cross-section and cable shot out near one end, revealing that it was a cross bow. He pulled out a handle, gripping the weapon with obvious proficiency.

“I may not have a Persona, but I can still fight Shadows when I have to.”

Yosuke, Yukiko, and Chie all exchanged glances before nodding once.

“Do not think you can run away,” Yukiko said. “We still have a lot of questions that you’re _going_ _to answer_.”

“But,” Yosuke said, as his card started to materialize in front of him, “you can fight. For now. Susano-o!” He smashed the card, summoning his Persona.

“Suzuka Gongen!” Chie summoned her own Persona, hitting her card with a solid roundhouse kick. Her steel greaves were lined with simple green detailing.

The man raised his crossbow, readying his finger on the trigger.

“While I’m damning myself,” he said, as the dark figures in the distance approached, growing in size, “I might as well give you one of my names to use. Kasanoda.”

“Yosuke Hanamura,” Yosuke said flatly. He waved a kunai towards the others in turn. “Chie Satonaka. And you already know Yukiko Amagi.”

“You’re just gonna give him our names?” Chie scolded him.

“Inaba’s a small town. He’ll find them out regardless.” He exhaled. “Let’s just try to focus on not dying for right now.”

The Shadows came into better view, now only a dozen meters or so away. They were apparently much more interested in fighting each other than in the humans just ahead of them.

“Shadows fighting each other?” Yosuke breathed. “What the he—wait! That one’s much smaller! Rise said—!”

“Damn it!” Kasanoda cursed.

The smaller Shadow greatly resembled the abnormal one the Team had encountered previously, though it was roughly the size of a horse this time, and now bore what appeared to be metal bracers on its front ankles and its spine was covered by similar, interlocked plates, its tail apparently completely robotic.

“What—?” Yosuke breathed.

The larger Shadow, which was dominating the fight, was far more familiar in design, resembling an Eagle type Shadow, but with four clawed limbs instead of two, and the mask was upside-down compared to normal and was severely cracked in several places. As Rise had said, it was enormous, well past the size of a truck.

The strange Eagle Shadow struck at the Abnormal Shadow, its talons slicing down its back near the spine. The Abnormal shrieked in pain, stumbling in an attempt to get away. It tripped on its own legs, collapsing to the ground.

Kasanoda fired a single shot, hitting the Eagle Shadow square on the mask. The Shadow screamed.

“I’d like to amend my previous statement; kill the Eagle. Let the other one live if you can.”

“Why?” Yosuke asked.

“Because she’s _my_ fault!” The man shouted cryptically.

“Whatever,” Yosuke muttered under his breath. “The Eagle is clearly the bigger threat here! Take it out!” He charged at it. “Garudyne!”

Susano-o flew above its owner, snapping its fingers to unleash a torrent of green Wind energy on the larger Shadow. The Shadow fell to the ground with a loud shriek.

“Satonaka, help the other one up!” Kasanoda shouted.

“Why? It’s a Shadow!”

“Would it be the first Shadow you helped?” He looked at her.

“How do you…?” She trailed off. She ran over to the fallen Abnormal.

“Yukiko, don’t let the other one up!” Yosuke said.

“With pleasure!” Yukiko twirled her fan. “Agidyne!”

Amaterasu spun once, before raising its sword. Flames erupted from the ground around the Eagle, and the Shadow screamed once more in its agony.

 _Man, and I thought Chie was scary when mad…._ Yosuke allowed himself a light chuckle.

Chie helped the Abnormal Shadow get back on all fours. It sniffed at her briefly.

“What is this Shadow?” Chie asked Kasanoda.

“A pity,” he said simply. “One I should have ended when I had the chance.”

“What does that me—?”

“Questions later, fighting now!” Yosuke interrupted as the Eagle recovered, taking to the sky again.

The strange Eagle Shadow gave a loud cry, and a burst of light erupted from the sky, raining down on the others. Yosuke felt his lungs threaten to collapse as the Almighty attack seared through him. He couldn’t even scream.

The pain ended quickly, but they all fell to their knees, with Kasanoda almost completely collapsing to the floor.

“Damn it,” the man coughed. “I can’t take much more. Without a Persona, my strength only goes so far.” He took aim with his crossbow. “But, I’m not going to Hell alone.” He fired a single shot, hitting the Eagle square on the mask.

The Eagle fell to the ground with an sharp cry.

Chie shouted, running towards the fallen Shadow. Her Persona raised its weapon, before striking the ground, just as Chie made a similar motion with her own fist. A glowing hand materialized from the sky, slamming down onto the Eagle in a solid punch, before vanishing again. The Eagle screamed.

The Abnormal Shadow whined. It stumbled away.

“Is she okay?” Kasanoda tried to turn toward it.

“She?” Yosuke echoed.

Chie looked at Yosuke for a moment, who eventually shrugged. She walked towards the Abnormal, the beast-like Shadow stumbling and swaying back and forth. Maybe the Almighty attack before had hurt it more than…?

“Hey, you okay?” Chie felt extremely ridiculous asking a Shadow that, but….

It whined, before making loud huffing sounds. It looked at her. It sniffed her again. Chie stiffened.

 _Where is Mitsuru-san?_ Yosuke wondered.

“Don’t make any sudden moves!” Kasanoda shouted. “She should continue stabilizing if we don’t antagonize her!”

“Her?” Yosuke shouted. “I thought Shadows didn’t—!”

“Most don’t!” He interrupted the teenager. He sighed. “This is why I wanted to avoid getting these kids involved.”

“If you didn’t want us involved, you should have stayed out of our town!” Chie shouted at him.

“Liar!” A loud, new voice bellowed.

The teenagers all froze, before slowly turning towards the source.

The Abnormal Shadow was half-bowed on the ground, its front paws pressed over its head.

 _As if it’s trying to pretend it’s not hearing or seeing something_ , the thought came unbidden to Yosuke. _Like_ — _Like when—!_

“No!” The Shadow shouted again, its voice deep but otherwise ambiguous. “Liar! Not true! Can’t!”

“It can talk?” Chie exclaimed.

 _But,_ Yosuke stared, _the only Shadows that can talk are_ —!

“Of course she can!”

“NOOOOOOOOO!” The Shadow stood up on its hind legs, now towering over the humans. It glared right at Kasanoda before letting out a deafening roar.

“Damn it!” Yosuke grunted as he felt the familiar pressure drown out all his senses. He could feel the Silence break his command on his Persona, the presence shattering with the others’. He forced one eye to open.

The Abnormal Shadow froze, before it turned to look down the street.

“Ffff—Fuh….” It attempted to speak again. “Foooor… For… Fortune. _Fortune._ ” It started running down the Shopping District.

 _Towards the others,_ Yosuke realized.

“Fortune!” He barked, forcing himself to his feet. He picked his kunai off of the ground. “Wheel of Fortune!” _Naoto._

“What?” Chie asked.

“It’s after Naoto-kun!” He shouted.

“Shirogane?” Kasanoda said. “That doesn’t—!”

“How do you know who Naoto is?” Yosuke turned to the man, pointing a kunai at him.

“The Detective Prince?” The man said, as if it were obvious. “It ain’t exactly a secret that she’s been in Inaba since last year.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Yosuke said. “I have to go save—damn it!”

The Eagle Shadow recovered, taking flight again. It let out another cry.

Their Personas were locked. They couldn’t use their abilities.

If it hit them with another Megidolaon….

“I should have killed the bitch when I had the chance,” Kasanoda forced himself to his feet. Blood started to stream down his forehead, from somewhere just above his hair line. “Sorry, kids.”

Yosuke and the girls turned to the Shadow, raising their weapons. Personas or no, they weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“Locking on!” A new, familiar voice shouted from behind them.

The Shadow was suddenly hit with a barrage of attacks. Gunfire. Bullets.

Yosuke felt relief wash over him.

 _It’s about damn time_ , he allowed himself to grin.

“The enemy is still alive!” The voice—feminine and almost human—exclaimed as the sound of an engine announced the arrival of another motorcycle.

“Well, then,” another feminine voice—this one cooler with the feeling of power behind each word—spoke over the engine’s roar. “We’ll just have to correct that, won’t we, Aigis?”

Yosuke accepted the robot’s assistance as she gently lifted him back onto his feet.

“May we be of assistance, Yosuke-san?”

 

…

…

 

Naoto pulled on the brim of her hat, focusing her gaze on the ground near her feet.

“Naoto-kun!” She heard Rise yell as she ran up to her and Teddie.

“R-Rise-san!” Naoto acknowledged her friend.

“H-hey,” she heard Kanji’s voice. Naoto flinched.

“Rise-chan!” Teddie said brightly. “Kanji! What’s up? Where’s Yuki-chan and the others?”

“There’s a pair of Shadows heading towards us,” Rise explained. Naoto looked up at her. “Yosuke-senpai and the others are holding it off while—”

“What?” Naoto cut her off. “Then, why aren’t you support—?”

“Because senpai _told_ me to warn you and Teddie!” Rise interrupted. “We can’t afford to fight each other right now!”

“I am perfectly capable of—!”

“Don’t be selfish, Naoto!” Rise snapped at her. “There are more important things going on here than your stupid pride!”

Naoto glared at her, indignation flaring up in her chest.

“What—?”

“If you want to challenge Yosuke’s leadership, do it later!” Rise didn’t let her speak. “Get your act together, Naoto!”

Naoto opened her mouth, but couldn’t find anything to say. She glared down at the pavement again, pulling on the brim of her hat.

Rise was right.

She and Kanji had run all the way down from the Shopping District to catch up with her and Teddie for more than to simply inform her of the battle ahead. The Dark Hour was dangerous. And, they still had no solid evidence to suggest what was going on. Kanji was a powerhouse in battle, and Rise’s Persona could not only scan the enemy rather thoroughly, but had obtained a combat form during the Golden Week incident. Between the two of them, Naoto and Teddie would be able to at least safely reach the others. Provided they didn’t run into an enemy with a Persona themselves.

“I apologize,” Naoto eventually said, her voice stiff. “I… was wrong. I appear to be jumping to conclusions rather quickly as of late.” _And I apparently am committing a number of transgressions requiring such apology frequently today._

“It’s okay,” Rise said with a sigh. “We’ll handle it later.”

“Is something wrong?” Teddie finally spoke up. “Why’s Nao-chan all upset today?”

Naoto flinched again.

“Don’ worry about it, Ted,” Kanji said. “We need to be ready to fight. There’s—!”

A series of bolts of light cracked across the sky, each one a shade of purple or magenta and followed by a low rumble of thunder.

“What the hell?” Kanji breathed, as they all started up. “What was that?”

Rise summoned her Persona, the others keeping the tense silence while she scanned the area.

“I… don’t know what that was,” she eventually said. “It’s not really giving me much info to work with. All I know is everything’s… fuzzier than it was a few minutes ago.”

“What do you mean?” Kanji said.

“Please clarify,” Naoto spoke at the same time.

“I… don’t really know what it is. Everything seems kinda… unstable. Like, right before a Shadow takes a fully-developed form, except the whole town feels like that. Oh!” She turned around, towards the direction she and Kanji had come from. “One of those Shadows is headed this way.”

“Tch!” Kanji scoffed. “Bring it on!” He summoned his Persona, smashing his card in a solid, upwards punch.

“Actually… it seems to be hurt pretty bad already.” Rise said, before pausing. “Something’s wrong with it. It feels a little like the Shadows that came from each of us, but it doesn’t seem to have the same sort of mind or presence. There’s no focus, and it… it doesn’t have an Arcana!”

“What?” Naoto breathed. _Every_ Shadow had an alignment to an Arcana, even the minor ones that had once plagued the Midnight Channel. Even the Shadows that were now each Team member’s Personas had been borne of the reverse Arcana of their source.

“It seems to almost have one, but then it just… fluctuates again.”

“But,” Naoto breathed. “Why…? That doesn’t make sense.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it now,” Kanji said. “We’ll have time for theory-makin’ later. We gotta be ready to fight now.”

They looked at each other for a long, tense moment. Naoto looked away, guilt forming a bitter taste in the back of her throat. She pulled on her hat again.

“Right.”

“Then, let’s do this!” Teddie said cheerfully, blissfully unaware of the tension between his friends. “Bearsona!” He summoned his Persona in a burst of blue light.

Naoto hesitated.

“Wait!” Kanji said as the Shadow came into view. “That’s…”

“The Abnormal,” Naoto finished the thought. The Shadow came to a stop just a few meters ahead of them. It’s breathing was visibly labored. “But, it appears a little different than on the previous encounter.”

“Smaller too.” Kanji added.

The previous fight, the Abnormal had been nearly the size of a small building. Now, it was perhaps the size of a large dog. A very large dog, perhaps, but still.

Why was it…?

“It’s… not attackin’ us,” Kanji noted. “It doesn’ even seem interested.”

“I don’t understand,” Naoto said.

The Abnormal Shadow suddenly tensed. It looked straight at Naoto.

“Fffff….” It made a loud huffing sound. “Fooor… Fortune.”

“It can talk?” The three humans all exclaimed in unison.

“That’s not weird,” Teddie pointed out. “We’ve met lots of Shadows that can talk. _I_ can talk!”

“But,” Naoto started. “This one’s…. It….” She shook her head.

“Fortune.” It spoke again. Its voice was deep and raw, but otherwise had little distinct about it. It even lacked the strange, electronic echo that the other Shadows had had.

“Guys!” Rise said. “It’s alignment just stabilized. It’s Arcana is the Wheel of Fortune.”

 _Just like me,_ Naoto noted to herself. _Perhaps that means…._

The Shadow took a series of slow, staggering steps towards them. Towards Naoto.

“What?” Kanji swung his shield at it. “Go away!”

“Kanji!” Rise shouted. “Don’t—!”

The Shadow snarled at him, backing up and raising its hackles. It glared at him, still growling.

“Don’t threaten it, Kanji!” Rise said. “It seems to be more passive than the other Shadows we encounter.”

“Like hell!” Kanji barked. “Last time, this thing tried to kill me an’ Naoto!”

“It may have just been scared,” Naoto interjected. “It certainly is now.”

“Scared?” Kanji asked, looking at her. “But—!”

“If you enjoy the idea of living,” a new, masculine voice spoke, “then you’ll back slowly away from the Shadow.”

“What?” Rise breathed. “I don’t… I don’t feel anyone. Where…?”

A burst of teal light erupted from behind them. The teenagers had just enough time to turn around to see a tall, muscular dark purple Persona none of them had seen before. Its entire head was covered in a white horned mask, its eyes glowing a deep red. Its body was detailed in white, covered in spikes and protruding bones. It held what appeared to be a rotary cannon in both hands. On a second glance the weapon appeared to be fused to its arm.

“By what reasoning should we just submit to your demands?” Naoto refused to lose any more control on the situation that they already had—and they’d had precious little control to start with.

The strange Persona lifted its cannon. A single shot fired. The long projectile—the brief look Naoto got suggested that it was some sort of long dart or short javelin—struck Teddie’s Persona, shattering it. The bear fell to his knees with a loud cry of pain.

“I will not ask again.” The voice rumbled from the Persona. “If you do not comply, I will kill all of you.”

“I can’t tell where the owner is,” Rise said. “He’s using his Persona to see and speak remotely!”

“Everyone,” Naoto said, “just back away from the Persona.”

“No!” The voice rumbled again. “Stay away from the Shadow!”

That was right. The Shadow was behind them. They were between the aggressive Persona and its prey. Teddie’s Persona was broken. Naoto hadn’t even evoked hers, yet.

 _This is not good_ , Naoto thought. _I have to form some sort of—!_

“What do we do?” Teddie asked.

Naoto looked at him.

Before she could speak, the Shadow leapt over them, landing in the small area between the Team members and the enemy Persona. It roared at its foe, but without the force that would have Silenced it.

“Very well,” it aimed at the Shadow. “I suppose you _do_ remember your masters.”

“N-noooo,” the Shadow moaned. It lashed its tail back and forth. “Not… true. Not true! Lying! Can’t!”

“Guys!” Rise gasped. “I think this Shadow’s actually a—!”

The Abnormal Shadow lunged at the strange Persona, catching its throat in its mouth. The Persona stumbled backwards.

Hell broke loose, but Naoto could only register it in fragments.

“Teddie!” Yosuke’s voice behind them caused her to turn around. She saw him leading a group as they approached them. Chie and Yukiko were to one side. Mitsuru was on her motorcycle, technically in front of them, but by a minor amount. Aigis was on the other side of the older woman. Fuuka was seated behind Mitsuru, and a strange man was behind her.

Yosuke shouted her name, too. So did the others.

She felt Kanji turn—he must have been standing closer than she’d realized.

Rise started to shout something.

A loud bang sounded behind her.

Yosuke screamed her name again, voice cracking. Eyes wide in a terror she’d never seen from them before.

Naoto looked down, at her shoulder.

Just a few centimeters inwards from her underarm, a long, sharp metallic object protruded from her body.

Blood was spreading down from the wound. Down the spike, dripping from the tip.

Pain seared from it.

Naoto tried to scream but couldn’t. Her breath caught in her throat.

She fell to her knees. She felt arms grab her before she could fall back to the ground.

Kanji.

She saw his face, looking down at her. Terror. The same terror as Yosuke’s. Different, too.

She tried to speak, to say his name.

She couldn’t make the sounds work, her voice twisting into a sick gurgle in her throat.

“ _Naoto!_ ”

_Why would an injury like this cause…?_

Her vision swirled, turning her world red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeah, everyone who's familiar with my writing knows that bad things usually get worse before they get better in my fiction writing. (double check that warnings list. remind yourself what's not there. don't worry.)
> 
> I promise to update faster this time.
> 
> EDIT: I FORGOT. In another case of fellow fans' influence, I'm apparently treating this fan blog's entry as canon: http://textsfromtheinvestigationteam.tumblr.com/post/93032982555/  
> It was what inspired both Marie's lack of space bar use, and the depicted incident in general (Poor Kanji).


	15. Prince

Rise felt the shock paralyze her spine as she watched Naoto collapse to her knees. By the time the small detective had fallen back into the arms of a kneeling Kanji, however, that shock had dissolved into a burning rage that tinged the edge of Rise’s vision with a red haze.

“Persona,” she said, a cold edge to the word. Kanzeon glowed with a blue light, before it began to change, morphing from its navigation-based form to one centered on direct combat. It rose up to hover just above her, waiting for command.

“What’s this?” The deep voice continued to speak through the dark Persona, from the other side of Kanji who was still stunned on his knees, eyes fixed on Naoto’s still, but apparently conscious, form in his arms.

“Naoto?” He repeated again, his voice taunt. “Naoto, c’mon, ya gotta say something. Ya… ya can’t…. Ya gotta stay with me, here. C’mon, please, please don’t… please. Naoto.”

She made a gurgling sound, but nothing coherent. The blood continued to seep through her clothes from the spike in her shoulder, the swirling red stain spreading through the plaid blues of her coat.

The rage in Rise erupted.

“Kanzeon!” She snapped. She glared straight at the enemy Persona, as hers rose its hand and a torrent of white lights began to rain down continuously on her target.

_Arrow Rain._

Rise did not let up, not even when she began to feel the exhaustion pull at the back of her skull.

This guy had hurt Naoto.

She was going to hurt him back.

“Aigis!” Mitsuru’s voice cut through the near-deafening sound of blood pounding in her ears. “Assist her!”

“Acknowledged!” Rise heard the almost-mechanical reply, followed quickly by an incredibly loud sound of engines whirring.

Rise silently commanded her Persona to stop its onslaught.

Aigis leapt in a front-flip over Kanzeon—and Rise—striking the enemy Persona with a downward kick as she landed directly in front it. The dark purple figure stumbled backwards several steps, just before Aigis aimed both of her arm cannons at it. All circuitry and internal segments of her robotic body began to glow with a bright blue light.

“Orgia Mode activated!” She said, just before firing her cannons at the enemy Persona. It screamed, the electronic voice wavering in and out with bursts of static. Aigis shot several more long bursts at the Persona, including a pair of small rockets, but to no avail. By the time the android’s glowing stopped, signaling the end of her burst of power, the dark purple-and-white figure was still mostly standing, with only the smallest, brief bursts of dark static over its visage signaling that any significant damage had been dealt at all. Aigis staggered to one knee.

“No!” Aigis shouted in desperation. “Functions are… shutting down….” She looked at the ground.

“Annoying pest,” the voice echoed from the Persona. It rose its cannon, aiming it at Aigis.

“Yosuke!” Chie’s voice snapped through the air.

Before anything else could happen, Rise made a snap decision, one she’d never be able to fully explain. She noticed a long, metallic javelin-like object on the ground—the shot that had broken Teddie’s Persona—and leapt towards it, grabbing it in one hand and circling around Kanji. Her Persona hovered above her as she charged at the enemy, shouting as she ran and raised the spike, wielding it in the same manner as a quarterstaff.

“Little twerp!” The purple Persona’s voice echoed with fury as it raised its cannon at her.

“Tetrakarn!” Rise shouted, her voice steady even through her fury. Kanzeon waved a hand, the shield flashing into existence right in front its owner, just in time to harmlessly deflect each shot as the enemy fired three times. Rise swung her makeshift weapon, hitting the Persona on the side of the head. The force behind the blow must have either been significant, or at least significant enough to catch the foe off guard, as it stumbled sideways nearly two meters from the impact.

The Persona raised its free hand.

“Makarakarn!” Rise shouted in the same tone, equal parts composed and thoroughly pissed off. Another hand wave, and a flash of light, just before a bolt of dark purple lightning fell from the sky. The attack bounced harmlessly off of the light blue wall of energy. Rise swung the spike again, the length of metal slamming against the enemy Persona’s chest with a loud burst of electric static. Rise didn’t flinch, unlike her companions moaning in pain from the volume behind her.

“Arrow Rain,” Rise said in a low tone. Her Persona rose a few centimeters, waving a hand as a second volley of lights rained from above. This time, the enemy screamed as it stumbled backwards, eventually toppling to its knees before the onslaught ended. Rise wasn’t done, however, regardless of how the continued use of the spell was pulling at the back of her mind. She leapt at the dark Persona, raising the spike one last time, and plunged the tip through its chest.

The Persona didn’t make a single sound, only stiffening as the dark static increased over its body. Rise glared at it, locking her gaze with the red eyes, the white mask surrounding them beginning to crack from the sockets.

“K-Ka—!” A soft voice broke through Rise’s red fog. “Kan…ji….”

“Who are you?” Rise shouted at the Persona. “What do you want?”

“All I wanted,” the deep voice snapped at her as it returned her burning look, “was the Shadow. I would have spared your pathetic, mewling lives, had you simply—!”

“Naoto!” Kanji’s voice snapped Rise out of her burning haze.

A loud bang made Rise stiffen.

A burst of blue light behind her heralded the charge of—

—A uniform-clad Persona dove at the purple-and-white foe, stabbing it through the face with its glowing sword. A Persona with blue pants, a white uniform coat, false wings attached to its gloves, and a familiar helmet ending in a long point at the back. Using Vorpal Blade.

_Yamato-Takeru._

The enemy Persona burst into a cloud of black dust with a loud, electronic scream.

_Naoto!_

Rise turned around.

Kanji was still holding Naoto, who was trying to force herself into a more upright kneeling position again. Her gun was still raised from the shot to summon her Persona. Her left hand was loosely gripping the spike the still protruded from the same shoulder. Blood was still slowly dripping from the wound, and there was a similar, thin trail of dark red running down her face from the corner of her mouth. Rise could feel Naoto’s Persona fade; she didn’t have the strength to keep it evoked.

Rise dropped her makeshift weapon and ran to her.

“What do we do?” Rise asked her.

“I… I need this… out.” Naoto holstered her gun to add her right hand to her loose grip on the spike.

“Ya crazy?” Kanji asked. “Ya’ll jus’ bleed out faster!”

“C-can’t… heal with… it… there.” Naoto fought to speak, looking in his vague direction. “Yo-Yosuke…senpai.”

“Yosuke!” Rise repeated, turning towards the others for the first time since Naoto’d been hit.

Mitsuru was seated on her bike, one foot keeping the vehicle upright. The trails of blood running down her face from her forehead explained why she hadn’t yet intervened; she was likely on the verge of passing out herself. Rise reminded herself that the others had been fighting a particularly large Shadow. It probably didn’t go down without a very difficult fight.

Fuuka sat behind Mitsuru. While in significantly better condition, likely due to her non-combat role, she was just as stunned as her companion. Her hands were covering her mouth, and she was staring in terror at the fallen teenager.

There was a strange man Rise’d never seen before on the motorcycle seat—just barely—right behind Fuuka. He appeared to be of average build, wearing dark clothes, and his face and wind-blown, shoulder-length dark hair was even more bloodstained than Mitsuru’s was. His face was caught in muted echo of Fuuka’s expression, his own arms limp at his sides.

Chie and Yukiko were standing on the other side of Yosuke from Mitsuru. They were in significantly better shape, mostly just a little bruised and beat up with very little blood visible on either of them. Yukiko was supporting Chie, the latter’s arm around the other’s shoulders. Chie’s free hand was gripped on the front of Yosuke’s jacket, her face contorted in her mid-rant fury.

Yosuke was in some sort of trance, not even looking at her, his face still frozen in the horror that had set in it when he’d watched the enemy’s blow impale Naoto. His eyes were glazed over, and he didn’t seem to notice that he seemed to be more looking at the ground near where Kanji was still holding onto Naoto than he was at anyone in particular.

“Yosuke!” Chie let go of him long enough to slap him across the face. He stumbled sideways and to his knees from the strike, eyes blinking slowly back to life. “Snap out of it!”

“Huh?” He looked at her, rubbing his cheek with one hand. “What was _that_ —?”

“Help Naoto!” Chie pointed in the direction of their friends.

He looked at them again, the terror—though softer than before—flashing across his face again. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as he visibly fought to regain control over his emotions. He muttered something to himself, before opening his eyes again with a single, firm nod.

He ran over to Naoto—and Kanji, by extension.

“Teddie!” He shouted. Rise looked over to the bear, his human form still stunned by everything he’d witnessed while nearly helpless. “Can you summon your Persona again now?”

“I…” Teddie shook his head a few times. “I can try. It’s hard to tell. Everything feels fuzzy right now. Ever since….”

“Try!” Yosuke interrupted. He turned to Yukiko. “Do you have enough energy left to cast a heal? Any of them?”

Yukiko nodded once.

“Rise?” Yosuke turned to her. “You’ve got a small heal, too, right?”

Rise frowned. “Nothing I can cast actively. My Persona passively radiates a small wave of healing magic whenever we finish off a group of Shadows, but….” Her stomach churned. _Damn it! Why—?_

“I… can… assist,” Aigis spoke as she slowly approached them, each step choppy and irregular. The blond robot seemed to have mostly recovered from the burnout after her Orgia Mode had ended. “My Persona also grants me a healing ability.”

“I…have one, too,” Kanji admitted softly.

Yosuke blinked at him.

“K-Kanji…kun?” Naoto glanced at him. Her voice was getting weaker.

“Long story, okay?” Kanji didn’t look at anyone. “Anyway, ‘s not the time.”

“I… have one, too,” Yosuke admitted. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “It’s not much, but I can help.”

“This… seems… excessive.” Naoto coughed once. “Certainly… Yukiko-se-senpai’s… heal will… be en… enough.”

 _Did the spike get her lung?_ The thought suddenly struck Rise. _If it’s collapsing, that would explain—but then—!_

“You’re…” Yosuke hesitated. “You’re probably gonna bleed out real fast once we get that spike out. We’re gonna have to heal with everything we have to make absolute certain that that doesn’t happen.” He knelt down to them, his voice lowered. “And it won’t. I promise.”

“Mitsuru-san?” Fuuka spoke up. “What do you—?”

“This is Hanamura’s team and his decision.” Mitsuru’s voice was taunt, but firm.

Yosuke blinked at the older woman for a moment before nodding once.

Rise suddenly understood.

Yosuke had frozen when Naoto’d been hit; he hadn’t been able to do anything—apparently even think—until after the initial threat had been handled. Now, he had a chance to redeem himself for his brief meltdown, and to lead the Team in saving the life of one of their own—and a friend.

“Ch-Chie,” Yosuke turned to her. “C-can you pull this out of her when we’re ready? We can’t close the wound with it there.”

Chie took a deep breath, but nodded. She walked over to Naoto and Kanji, kneeling next to them.

“Allow me to assist,” Aigis knelt. “Please lean her forward slightly, Kanji-san. I require access to the back side of the spike.”

“You okay fer that?” Kanji asked Naoto softly.

Her head barely moved, but in an unmistakable nod.

Kanji slowly, gingerly leaned her forward. She inhaled sharply through her clenched jaw, eyes slammed shut.

“Naoto?”

“Fine. Please hurry.”

Aigis reached behind the young detective, running one finger around the circumference of the spike, near where it entered her back. A trail of red heat followed the android’s touch, and the spike split in two around the traced circumference. The severed piece fell to the ground with a loud clank.

“Chie-san, it should now be relatively safer to remove the spike when we are ready,” Aigis stepped back. “We should hurry, however; the Dark Hour will end shortly. While its termination for the night will result in the dissolution of the spike’s existence, it will also cause us to no longer be able to evoke our Personas or use their abilities.”

 _Which means we wouldn’t be able to do anything while Naoto-kun just bled out_. A ball of ice formed in Rise’s stomach.

“Right!” Chie knelt in front of Naoto. She looked her friend in the eye—or as much as she could; the young detective’s eyes were half-closed from the pain and—no. She was going to be okay.

She had to be.

“We’re gonna get you through this, Naoto-kun,” Chie said softly. “Don’t you worry.”

“Worrying… would be… counterproductive.”

Rise allowed herself a slight smile.

_Naoto-kun never changes, does she?_

“I’m going to grab this now, okay?” Chie said. “I promise not to pull until you’re ready, though.”

Naoto gave another tiny nod, and the third-year gingerly wrapped both hands around the spike.

“All right, guys,” Yosuke said. “Everyone with a heal, evoke now!”

“Persona!” Their voices spoke in unison, followed by the familiar bursts of blue light. Rise noted that Teddie’s Persona was among them.

 _Good. Poor guy probably feels like he was useless in that fight because he was Silenced._ Rise recalled that, despite appearances, Teddie was still very young mentally and emotionally. _Being part of helping save Naoto-kun’s life should help him, too._

“Naoto-kun?” Yosuke looked at her.

Naoto looked at the Personas above her, eyes eventually resting on the reds and oranges of Rokuten Maoh, who—like its owner—was closest to her. She took a long, faintly rattling breath, coughing once, and closed her eyes. She leaned back against the support of Kanji’s shoulder.

“I’m ready.” Her voice was barely audible.

Chie didn’t hesitate, pulling instantly on the spike. The weapon resisted the force, taking significant, visible effort to even move. Naoto opened her eyes, staring upwards with wide eyes as she attempted to scream from the pain, the sound somewhat strangled and caught between bursts of choking.

Fortunately, it only took a few—though agonizingly long—moments for Chie to pull the spike totally free from Naoto’s shoulder.

“Now!” Yosuke shouted.

Five Personas brandished their weapons as their owners each cast the post powerful heal they could, the bright light focusing on the profusely bleeding wound. Flesh knit itself back together, the scarred skin materializing into view under the new gap in her coat. The bleeding stopped. The light intensified for a moment, forcing everyone to close their eyes, before fading entirely.

Naoto closed her eyes, going visibly limp in Kanji’s hold.

“Hey!” Kanji’s voice cracked. “Naoto!”

“I… am all right,” she said quietly. “It… doesn’t even… hurt… anymore.”

Rise smiled.

 _Sometimes, Naoto-kun, you are a_ terrible _liar._

“I am… currently quite… lightheaded… however,” Naoto said between slow breaths.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Yukiko said. “Our healing spells should have helped with that for the most part, but you’re going to still be tired for a while.” Yukiko stumbled to one knee.

“Yukiko!” Chie reached for her.

“I’m fine, Chie.” Yukiko brushed her hand away with a tired smile. “I’m just relieved that Naoto-kun will be all right.” She looked at Yosuke. “Do you think we could take her to the hospital? Just to be…?”

Yosuke paused, thinking.

“We could have a Kirijo doctor brought in,” Mitsuru spoke up. “Or otherwise make sure that the local medical staff won’t ask too many questions or talk to the wrong people.”

Yosuke shook his head.

“We appreciate the offer, but no. No matter how much money you throw at this one, it won’t work. Inaba’s a small, tight-knit town; people will notice if Naoto’s in the hospital, and they _will_ talk. There are a lot of reasons that gossip could cause us problems. Not the least of which is Naoto-kun’s reputation.”

“I understand,” Mitsuru said with a nod. “The offer will still remain, should Shirogane-san change her mind.”

“Where… is the… Aberrant… Shadow?” Naoto asked.

“What?” The strange man with Mitsuru asked. He leapt off of the bike, looking around. “She’s gone?”

Rise looked around. The strange, bestial Shadow had managed to disappear sometime during the fight with the unknown Persona. She evoked Kanzeon again, summoning her Persona in its support form. Kanzeon lowered the visor over its owner’s face. Rise was silent for a long moment while she scanned the area.

“I’m having trouble reading much of anything in Inaba. All I can really scan is the immediate area; the rest of the town is too… fuzzy to read anything.”

“The same thing happened to me tonight,” Fuuka said quietly. “It was minimal before, though….”

“You!” Mitsuru addressed the strange man. “You know what’s causing this?”

“You mean that crazy lighting earlier?” He took a step backwards, putting a minimal amount of space between them. “I have no idea what caused that, I swear.”

Mitsuru drew her rapier, pointing it at him.

“Why should I believe you?” Her voice turned cold. “You also claimed that Shadows would not be interested in you in any fashion, yet Yamagishi determined that you were earlier pursued by _both_ abnormal Shadows.”

“Key word, abnormal,” the man sounded—and looked—offended.

“Regardless, I’m not letting you out of my sight. You can come quietly, or we can—!”

“I won’t resist,” the man raised both palms. “I’m beaten half ta’ hell, for one, and I don’t blame you for your choice, for another.” He paused. “I’m surprised you’ve let me be as long as you have.”

“What… are you… talking about?” Naoto tried to stand. She stumbled slightly, and Kanji instantly stood up and caught her. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders for support, gently holding her upright.

 _Of course,_ Rise refrained from smirking. _We don’t have to worry about Naoto-kun with Moronji around._

“I apologize for not informing you on his presence in Inaba earlier,” Mitsuru said, not looking at any of the Team, instead focusing on the man. “When you’ve recovered, Shirogane, we can meet up again and have a proper—and complete—exchange of information.”

“Ah, right.” The man said. “Shirogane-san. The Detective Prince. Sorry to meet under these circumstances. I’m quite glad you pulled through that.” His voice sounded sincere enough. “By the way, you may call me Kasanoda. I’m technically your prisoner, now, so I’m sure I’ll be answering a lot of questions. Might as well get the easiest out of the way. Well,” he paused, looking at Mitsuru, “technically, I’m _your_ prisoner.”

“Aigis!” Mitsuru said.

“Acknowledged!” Aigis leapt behind Kasanoda, grabbing both of his wrists and pulling them behind his back. Rise couldn’t quite catch, but by the time Aigis let him go, he was clearly handcuffed. He struggled slightly against them.

“Oh, come on!” He said, indignant. “Was that really necessary? I’m pretty much ready to pass out; I ain’t going anywhere!”

“As was that Shadow,” Mitsuru pointed out. “And now it’s vanished. Again.”

“I…” Kasanoda hesitated. He looked down at the ground. “I see your point.” He sighed. “Very well. Whatever makes everyone comfortable. As I said, I’m not fightin’ you.”

“Yeah, well, you better just have some answers for us,” Yosuke said, twirling one kunai. “One of us almost _died_ because we don’t know what’s going on. Regardless of what choices Mitsuru-san makes, this is our town and our team. I am holding you personally responsible for each time someone in Inaba gets so much as a bruise from this insanity.”

 _He’s lying,_ Rise frowned. _Yosuke-senpai blames himself for what happened to Naoto-kun. And will blame himself for everyone else that gets hurt until this is over._

_He’s too much like Senpai like that._

“Fortunately for you, we have more important things to worry about tonight than interrogating you.”

Rise looked at Naoto again. The girl looked about ready to pass out; she was probably only still standing because of Kanji’s firm support.

Before anyone could speak, the sky returned to normal, the half-moon’s glow much less ominous above them.

“Hmm.” Aigis brought one hand to her mouth. “My systems read that we should have had eight more minutes before the end of the Dark Hour. Perhaps the earlier battles overtaxed my systems.”

“I’ll make sure you’re all right when we get back,” Fuuka consoled her.

“Crap,” Yosuke breathed. “We gotta get home. Dad’s gonna be pissed if he catches me breaking curfew tonight.”

“Yeah,” Kanji muttered. “Ma’s already on my back ‘bout it lately.”

“We must leave as well,” Mitsuru said, sheathing her weapon and revving the motorcycle’s engine once. “We cannot be seen together, at least not like this. Like Hanamura said, at best the townspeople will gossip, which could hinder our freedom to operate cooperatively.”

“Agreed.” Naoto nodded.

“But, we _will_ get answers for what’s happening to our town,” Yosuke pressed.

Mitsuru chuckled.

“Don’t worry, Hanamura-san. I understand your sense of duty to your town; I promise to not make the same mistake I made in May. You’ll have your answers and more than ample opportunity to fight, I’m certain.” She paused. “Aigis,” she turned to the android, “would you please return to the northern end of the Shopping District and retrieve Kasanoda’s vehicle and any of his belongings? We should take care to hide the fact that we’re currently holding him.”

“Acknowledged,” Aigis said, before sprinting down the street.

Kasanoda looked awkwardly between the teenagers before sighing. He stumbled over towards Mitsuru’s motorcycle without prompting, struggling to seat himself behind Fuuka again.

“Should’a gone with the robot,” he muttered. “I’m gonna fall off.” He shuffled his hands, still cuffed behind him.

“You will survive the trip,” Mitsuru said. “That much, I can promise you.” She looked at Naoto. “Shirogane. Get some rest and recover your strength.”

Naoto nodded again.

“And… you as well.” Her voice was a little stronger.

Relief eased tension Rise hadn’t even noticed was clenched in her shoulders.

Mitsuru sped off down the street, passengers in tow.

“We should all hurry home,” Chie said. “I know my mom’s gonna flip if she catches me sneaking in, especially after—!”

Yukiko elbowed her, cutting her off.

“At least tomorrow’s Sunday,” the dark-haired girl pointed out. “Or… today, I suppose.”

“Is anyone else beary tired?” Teddie asked, walking over to Yosuke and slumping against his side. The teen frowned but did nothing to push the bear off.

“It’s the Dark Hour,” Yosuke said. “It always leaves Persona users exhausted. At least, more than the TV world does.” He paused, before looking at Rise. “You have a plan to get past your grandma?”

Rise chuckled.

“Don’t worry about me, Yosuke-senpai. If I get caught, I can just tell Grandmother that I was out with you guys and lost track of time. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, so she should believe that.”

Yosuke’s frown twitched, but he seemed to accept that. He looked at Naoto—and Kanji.

“How _are_ you feeling?” He asked. “Can you walk…?”

“I am fine,” Naoto insisted, pushing herself away from Kanji. She swayed for a moment. She took a couple of steps, before stumbling forward. Vigilant as a mother hen, Kanji managed to lean forward and grab her by the upper arms before she could hit the ground. He gently brought her back to her feet.

Rise thought she heard Naoto curse under her breath.

“It would seem I am still mildly light-headed. It should pass momentarily.”

“No,” Yosuke shook his head. “There’s someone willing to kill us out there. I’m not letting you go home alone until I know you’re totally better.” He exhaled, looking at the ground. “I can’t go all the way across town and back, and neither can Teddie. Yukiko?”

“No, I’m sorry.” Yukiko shook her head. “There’s several large groups staying at the inn. I’m pushing my luck as it is being out here now.”

Yosuke nodded.

“Chie’s already said that she’s kinda in the doghouse with her mom tonight as it is, and….” He took a long breath. “Rise, Kanji, one of you guys will have to—!”

“I do not need a—!” Naoto started to protest.

“Then don’t do it for you!” Yosuke cut her off. “Do it for us. Naoto, we—we almost….” He trailed off, looking away. He twirled one kunai again, this time at a quicker pace.

“Havin’ people worry ‘bout you,” Kanji’s voice was barely audible, “doesn’ mean they think yer weak.”

Naoto’s expression became pained, before she pulled her hat down with her free hand and looked at the ground to hide her face.

Rise suddenly understood what was going on.

“Kanji,” she said, “can you take her home, make sure she doesn’t….” She exhaled. “Can you?”

“I—!” Kanji’s face tinted pink.

_Oh, simple Moronji. Please, never change._

“I-I mean….” Kanji coughed. “I… yeah.”

“What about your mother?” Naoto asked.

“I…” Kanji looked away. “I’ll think of something.”

“You do not—!”

“I ain’t making the same mistake twice in one night!” Kanji blurted.

Rise tilted her head.

 _Did something happen?_ Rise recalled Kanji’s hesitation when Yosuke had told him to meet up with Naoto at the beginning of the Dark Hour. _Did they have a fight?_ She frowned again. _Darn it, and last night went so well, too. Well, the night before._

_Regardless, right now, we need…._

“Do it for me, Naoto-kun,” Rise said. “And for Yosuke-senpai and Chie-senpai and Yukiko-senpai. Do it for Teddie… and for Kanji.” When Naoto just blinked at her, Rise continued. “I don’t think you understand…” Rise placed her hands over her chest, looking away. She could still feel her heart pounding against her ribs. “We’ll all sleep a lot better tonight knowing you got home safe and… and please.”

“Would you let one a’ us go home alone like this?” Kanji added.

Naoto took a long, deep breath.

“Very well,” she eventually said. “I shall permit Kanji-kun to accompany me home.”

Rise looked at her with a smile, nodding once.

She would call her in the morning, to check that she was still okay.

“Now, then,” Yosuke said, “now that that’s settled, let’s all go home. We’ve had one hell of a night. Get some rest.”

Rise nodded again, despite the fact that she knew no one on the Team would be sleeping very well that night.

 

…

…

 

Naoto hadn’t spoken the entire, slow, painful trek back to her apartment, awkwardly hobbling down the street with Kanji’s arm wrapped around her shoulder for support. She’d attempted to break free and walk on her own a handful of times along the way—Kanji hesitantly but wordlessly permitting her to do so each time—but could never make more than a couple of steps on her own without her knees threatening to give out beneath her.

So, she allowed him to more or less half-carry her home.

Silently cursing herself with each agonizing step.

It was her fault she was in this mess, she figured. If she hadn’t allowed her pride—her anger—take control at Naoki’s earlier tonight—had that really only been a few hours ago?—she wouldn’t have snapped at Kanji until she drove him away. If that hadn’t happened, she wouldn’t have gone home and thus would have been closer to the Shrine when the Dark Hour started. The Team would not have had to split up, and they might not have been taken surprise by the strange Persona. She would not have been shot.

She frowned at that, while Kanji helped her get the apartment door open.

No, it wasn’t her fault. She was being stubborn again. She could have still been shot, and quite possibly far—

She froze, as Kanji carefully closed the door behind them.

“What’s up?” Kanji asked.

Of course he’d notice; the excessively close proximity of his—

—Naoto cut herself off, attempting to ignore the heat building in her face.

“It has occurred to me that I am alive tonight because of you.” She didn’t look at him.

“Huh?” He sounded confused. “I-I mean, we all helped—!”

“I am not referring to when you and the others closed my wound.” Naoto motioned towards the couch. Kanji helped her slowly stagger to it, letting her sink into its inviting cushioning. “My memory is admittedly still fragmented, but I vaguely recall something pushing against my side. You… tried to get me out of the way.”

“I…” He looked at her drawing room table. “I didn’t really think, I just….” He eventually shrugged.

“Regardless, if you had not, the… projectile would have… struck me….” She cleared her throat. “I may not have been able… to hold out as….” She looked at the floor. “Thank you.”

“No need ta thank me,” Kanji mumbled. “I’m just….” He cleared his throat again. “Yeah.”

A long silence passed.

“It is a shame I happened to be wearing this coat,” Naoto said. She worried at the gap in the fabric with one hand. “I was quite fond of it.” She tried to ignore the fact that the hole meant that a significant-enough area of skin—scarred or otherwise—was easily visible. At least it wasn’t cold anymore.

“I’ll make ya a new one,” Kanji said immediately. It was probably an instinct.

“I’d… I’d appreciate that.” Naoto didn’t look up.

“Uh, I-I mean,” Kanji seemed to suddenly realize something. “I, uh… I’d need yer measurements, though.”

“Oh.”

“I-I can eyeball it, it’s not—!”

“That’s all right,” Naoto cut him off. “I can… we can discuss it later. I greatly appreciate the offer, in any case.”

“’S cool.” He coughed once. “So, uh. I can… can help ya to yer room, if ya want. You… you can, uh… take c-care of yerself from th-there… r-right?” He coughed again. “Damn it,” he muttered to himself, “shoulda made Rise….”

Naoto slowly stood back up.

“I believe I can manage to take care of myself from this point, yes.” She took a couple, tentative steps. Her head rushed, but she managed to keep balanced. Mostly. “I….”

“I-I know!” Kanji’s voice cracked, causing her to look at him. “H-how about I… I make ya something? L-like. A hot drink. Tea? Hot chocolate? Something without caffeine. Help ya ta sleep, get rest. That sorta thing.”

“I… I don’t—!” She cut herself off, looking away. “I… I would appreciate that, yes. Thank you.”

They were both trying to avoid… well, several things, really. The fight. And their fight. The fact that Kanji was still clearly worried about her.

There was something else, too, something that Naoto couldn’t name or describe. It felt like some sort of buzzing in the back of her mind, something she knew she should be able to identify. Yet, either because of a social shortcoming or some subconscious fear, she was hesitant to address it directly.

“So!” Kanji said forcefully. “Uh. I-I’ll do that! Y-you can, uh….”

“T-take your time.” Naoto didn’t leave him hanging. “I’m… I should probably wash the….” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. “A-and, change into my bedclothes.” She felt a wave of panic she couldn’t explain.

She started to walk towards her bedroom, but her knees suddenly ceased working properly after just a couple steps. She felt the surge of vertigo as she started to tumble forward. Before she could hit the ground, she felt hands gently grab her around her sides from behind, just above her waist.

“Careful,” Kanji said, his voice barely audible. He helped her upright again. “L-l-let me h-help ya.”

Naoto nodded, but said nothing. He adjusted his grip on her, draping one of her arms around his shoulders—as best as he could, at least, with their height difference—and holding it loosely, while wrapping his other arm around her waist. Naoto was briefly reminded of how he, Yukiko, and Rise had helped her home after they’d rescued her from her kidnapping just a year prior. Much like then, he very pointedly did not look at her as he helped her walk through her room and into her bathroom.

“Y-you c-can handle it f-from here, yeah?” He stared firmly at a tile on the floor. He released her arm from his shoulder and used the now-free hand to adjust his glasses repeatedly. “I-I mean.” He made a sound of frustration. “I-I ain’t Rise or—so, yeah, I really can’t—shouldn’t—but, you’ve got it here. Right?”

“What if I said I could not?” Something strange possessed Naoto to speak before she realized what she was saying. That irritating voice chuckled in the back of her mind, and heat erupted across her face as it sank in that—she really just asked him that. “Wh-what would you do?”

“I-I—!” Kanji stared at her for a moment. His face went pale for a split second, before a red blush took over its entirety, reaching back to his ears—even the tips turning pink—and starting down his neck. He sputtered a few incoherent attempts at words, glancing wildly around the bathroom at anything but her. “C-call Rise!” He eventually managed. “Sh-she would—yeah!”

Naoto slipped out of his grip with little effort. She refrained from smiling.

“I apologize; I hadn’t intended to leave you conflicted between your desire to help me as your friend and your respect for my… privacy.”

“Hot chocolate!” Kanji nearly shouted at the floor. “I-I’m gonna—gonna go m-make ya hot ch-chocolate!” And he tore out the door behind them as fast as humanly possible, closing it behind him.

Naoto finally allowed herself to smile.

 _Kanji-kun truly is a good friend_. She paused, before turning to her shower door with a frown. _I shall have to apologize again for… earlier tonight. Properly._

She slipped out of her clothes, trying to ignore just how far down the bloodstains went.

She’d have to get rid of them—aside from the gaping hole, blood was incredibly frustrating to get out of cloth. She was certain that even Kanji would tell her the same. She tossed most of them in the far corner of the room. Perhaps she could slip into the TV world tomorrow and burn them without risking discovery. If someone were to find clothes stained with blood in Inaba, especially in the garbage, it might start a panic among the citizens. The Police Department wouldn’t be happy, and when the DNA led back to her….

Naoto shook her head, returning her focus to the binding garment in her hands. It fortunately wasn’t her favorite one. Between the ragged tear that had nearly severed the shoulder segment from the main body and the wide, swirling pattern of dark red—nearly brown—staining virtually the same entire side, the binder was probably better left discarded and replaced. It was still frustrating; the style she preferred were not excessively expensive, but they were neither inexpensive enough to be able to simply purchase without thought. She considered asking Kanji if he was familiar with the blend of fabric—perhaps the textile shop sold something similar, it was also quite useful for medical reasons—and if it would be possible to remove the bloodstain and mend the shoulder.

She placed the binder on the sink. She’d make a decision on the matter later. Right now, she needed to wash the—

She didn’t even wait for the water to reach a proper warmth to get into the stall. She forced her mind to be as blank as possible as she scrubbed the mostly-dry blood off of her skin. Her blood. She struggled to not acknowledge just how much there was—

—How close she’d really come to dying.

It seemed to be a lesson she struggled to learn from. Her stubborn pride often resulted in her being injured or otherwise harmed. Last year, she’d been kidnapped. In May, she’d insisted to Kanji that she could explore the red-fog-plagued Junes on her own while he rested, and she’d almost been killed by Minazuki. And now, her stubborn need to keep her various worries secret from as much of the Team as possible had led to them being split up and—

—No, now she was being too harsh on herself again.

Yes, she needed to be more comfortable relying on the others. But, that did not mean that she’d somehow deserved or earned any of the pains or hurts inflicted against her.

She sighed, turning off the water.

She managed to keep her mind blank while she dried off and pulled on a set of pajamas—dark blue, minimal white detailing, with a buttoned shirt, and maybe a half-size too large on her—and stumbled out of her room towards the kitchen. Walking was still difficult, with her body swaying back and forth with each step, but she managed to remain generally upright.

“Kanji-kun,” she started as she staggered into the room.

“Huh?” Kanji half-turned, a large, dark grey mug in his hand. He set it on the counter. “Hey, ya didn’t have to come out here—I’d have brought ya—!”

“It is all right. I needed to… I wanted….” She suddenly could not finish a sentence.

“L-let me help ya,” Kanji said quietly. He gingerly reached for her arm. She didn’t pull away, permitting him to support her.

 _I am… too tired to argue_ , the words sounded false, even in her head.

“C’mon,” Kanji encouraged, leading her back to her room. “Ya need to rest.”

“I… I’m sorry,” Naoto whispered, barely audible, as they approached her door.

“Huh?” Kanji stopped in front of it. “What for? This wasn’t your—!”

“I mean for… at Naoki-kun’s. I should not have—I took my frustrations out on—I was—!”

“It’s all right.” Kanji looked at the floor.

“No, it is not all right. You are a good friend. You deserve better than such treatment.”

“Naoto, it’s….”

“I know you do not see me as weak.” Naoto looked away. “You never have. Not even… regardless of….” She cleared her throat. “I am sorry for yelling at you. And for saying that you believed otherwise.”

“It’s all right,” Kanji repeated. “I… I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’ a snapped back, and I really shouldn’ ‘ve left, especially not like that.” He cleared his throat again, leading her the rest of the way to her bed.

He let go, and she climbed on top of it herself.

“So, we are… our friendship… is unharmed, then?”

“What?” Kanji blinked at her. “’Course we’re cool! We… friends fight sometimes. Important thing is to make up after.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “So… so long as ya want me around, I’ll be here, ya know?”

“Thank you, Kanji-kun.”

She looked up at him. A chill ran down her neck. Their faces were much too close. She could almost make out her own reflection in his glasses. She was being far too familiar with him, no matter how good of friends they were.

Wasn’t she?

“K-Kanji-kun?” She breathed.

“H-hot chocolate!” He jolted backward, his face pale. “I forgot the hot chocolate!” He burst out of the room again.

 _What… just happened?_ Naoto felt the buzzing in her skull again. The one she couldn’t quite name.

She could hear her Persona chuckle in the back of her mind. She scowled in irritation. Who could have expected that one’s own subconscious could be of such annoyance?

Kanji returned, mug in hand. He walked stiffly over towards the nightstand. He placed it on top, but didn’t look at her.

“Th-there should still be blankets in the drawing room closet,” she said before she could stop herself.

“Huh?” He turned to face her.

“I—if you are, as I suspect, only going to worry all night if you return home, then I would… would prefer it if you were able to sleep. If that means spending the night on my couch, you have my permission to do so.” She hesitated, looking away from his bewildered expression. “Not to mention, we know that there is someone out there willing to kill us. Perhaps it is best if you do not walk halfway across town in the middle of the night—particularly not alone.”

“R-right,” he eventually said. “I… okay. If… if that’ll help ya.”

She looked up again. He was looking at the mug.

“I-I’m gonna… yeah.” He turned and started towards the door. “D-drink that…. It’ll help ya… get some rest.”

“Kanji-kun.”

He stopped in the doorframe, glancing back at her.

“Y-yeah?”

“Thank you.” For what, exactly—saving her life, maybe, or maybe for staying, or something she couldn’t quite figure out—she wasn’t wholly certain.

There was a brief silence, as they simply looked at each other.

“G’night,” Kanji eventually said, closing the door behind him as he left.

 

…

…

 

Dojima held his lighter out, staring at it for a long moment before deciding against it.

It seemed that every time he considered quitting, something like this would happen.

“Dojima-san!” One of the younger cops barked with a stiff salute.

The detective held back a sigh. While he didn’t exactly hate being treated with the respect due to an officer of his rank, he was starting to tire of how excessive the lower-ranked cops were being with it. It only got worse after Adachi’s conviction went through and his sentencing was announced.

It had that annoying twinge of pity. He was the poor, noble cop who got suckered by his conniving partner into believing he was a trustworthy person.

At least, that’s the attitude they seemed to be treating him with.

Well, maybe a case on something a little more serious than petty theft or vandalism by bored kids would remind them that he had been Detective Dojima before Adachi had been assigned to him, and was still that same Detective Dojima.

They’d all been fooled, after all.

Everyone except for a kid who was younger than each of them had been when they’d first started at the academy.

Dojima smiled. She’d sure shown them. He might have even been amused at the time, if the truth hadn’t been quite so….

“What do we got?” He asked, putting his unlit cigarette away.

The cop led him into the alley. It was hard to see in the early morning light, but it was still pretty obvious what was under the tarp against the wall.

“A housewife found her when she let a cat out this morning. Said it looked like a… bear got her, or something.”

Dojima knelt in front of the tarp, lifting it slightly. He bowed his head to look under it.

He dropped the tarp almost immediately.

“You _did_ tell her not to speak to anyone, yes?”

“Y-yes sir!” The cop gave a slight bow. “Absolutely, sir!”

“Make sure that this does not get out to the press. No details on her body. We found a murdered woman, and the details beyond that are sensitive, understand?” Dojima’s voice was taut.

“Yes, sir!”

“If this gets out, we could have a town-wide panic. We need the citizens to think they’re relatively safe, or they’re just gonna everything worse with hysteria.”

“H-How bad is it, sir?” The young cop asked. “Takahashi-san wouldn’t say.”

“She’s had her face pretty much clawed or gnawed off, and the rest of her isn’t in much better condition. I don’t need a coroner to tell me that this is certainly the work of an animal of some sort.” Dojima turned to the covered body again. “The real question is, is it wild, or is someone using it as a means for murder?” He paused. “Kita-san!” He looked at the cop again.

“Sir!”

“Have someone at the station call Shirogane as soon as possible.” Dojima slipped his jacket on.

“The… the Detective Prince?” The cop asked. “Or…?”

“Yes, her,” Dojima allowed his depleting patience to be clear in his voice. “We’d be wise to utilize every resource we have. Especially with something this dangerous on the loose.”

“Sir!” The cop gave another stiff salute, before running out of the alley.

Dojima knelt in front of the covered body again.

“Though, I wonder…” he mumbled to it, “just who hated you this much. And why.”


	16. Observation

“Don’t you ever sleep?” A voice greeted Mitsuru as she closed the car door. She ignored the handcuffed man in the back seat, starting the engine.

As the car roared to life, the radio scanner that was installed in place of a civilian stereo began spitting static.

“Have you discovered anything?” Mitsuru asked the blond android in the passenger seat next to her.

“I am currently scanning local police radio frequencies,” Aigis said. “It would seem that a major crime has occurred at some point early this morning. One moment. I shall attempt to intercept more details.”

“Can I have somethin’ to eat?” Kasanoda asked, sliding against the back seat to lie down.

“I thought you said you would cooperate.” Mitsuru glanced back at him with a firm expression. “You seem to be determined to do nothing but irritate us, however.”

“I’ll answer whatever questions I can.” Kasanoda closed his eyes. “But, I ain’t had something to eat since yesterday afternoon. My, uh, systems are a little messed up. My own body will start killing itself if I don’t eat something soon.”

“What do you mean?” Mitsuru asked, her expression softened.

Kasanoda sighed, rolling over to his side.

“I’ll let ya have the robot scan me, or whatever pokin’ or prodin’ you want. I just need to eat something, something heavy, and soon.” He grumbled something else under his breath, before adding in an audible voice. “Did you really think that the girl was the first person they stuck with needles or dosed with all sorts of crap?”

“Your employer performed experiments on you?” Aigis turned around, facing him.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Kasanoda said, “once we get our current emergencies under control and get—!”

“Mitsuru-san!” Aigis interrupted, turning sharply to face the woman. “I have analyzed the intercepted signal; there has been a murder in Inaba.”

“Murder?” Mitsuru and Kasanoda both snapped, the latter sitting back up as best he could in cuffs.

“Do you have any more details?” Mitsuru asked. “When did this happen? Where?”

“Was it a woman?” Kasanoda breathed.

“I am still gathering exact details; they are not stating very much over the radio. We may have to find some other way to get information.”

“Perhaps Shirogane will be able to assist us,” Mitsuru mused. “I recall she stated that she was still permitted use of the Inaba Police Department’s offices.” She paused. “The question is if she will trust us—me—enough to potentially risk her entire career, after last night.” “I am certain that Naoto-san will forgive you,” Aigis said softly.

“The murder vic!” Kasanoda leaned into the front end of the car. “Do you know _anything_? Even just their physical sex?”

“Insistent, aren’t you?” Mitsuru asked. “Aigis, _can_ you get anything concrete?”

“It appears they believe the victim is a woman.”

“Woman?” Kasanoda breathed. “Anything else?”

“It does not appear to be Akira-san,” Aigis said. “It would appear that the victim is Japanese. Initial reports suggest she is not a known local resident either.”

“Did the cops say anything about _how_ she died?” Kasanoda looked desperate.

“Nothing definitive, but the initial call stated that she appeared to have been attacked by an animal.”

Kasanoda’s face paled.

“You have to let me go.”

“After last night?” Mitsuru glared at him. “Absolutely not. Shirogane almost _died_ because of your actions—and inactions.”

“The android—what was your name again?” He turned to her.

“I am known as Aigis,” Aigis reminded him.

“Aigis,” he repeated, and looked back at Mitsuru. “You can have Aigis follow me, if you’d like.”

“Where are you planning to go?”

“We have a sleeper agent of sorts here in Inaba. A single woman, living on her own. I believe she even works at the local Junes branch.”

“Why have you not told us about her?” Mitsuru’s voice tensed.

“She’s too low on the ladder to have much in the way of influence. She’s really more in place to provide a safe house for any of our… agents in the area. The female agent I told you about the other night, she was most likely staying with her. Our sleeper would have the ability to make contact with our employer. If the female agent is the woman who was just murdered, I only have a few hours before the big man on top hears about it.” Kasanoda leaned back into his seat again. “Now that we have confirmation that the male agent that was sent with us _does_ have a Persona, I have to make contact, inform him that I am recovering the situation. If I don’t, he might order the town… neutralized.”

“Surprising that your employer’s personal assassin would care so much about a town of people he’s never met.” Mitsuru put the car in gear, starting to drive.

“I have never attempted to lie to you about the crimes I have committed,” Kasanoda said. “As I recall, I sought you out, told you as much as I could at the time.”

“You will be telling us _everything_ now.”

“And I will do so willingly,” Kasanoda said. “I know when I’ve fucked up. Just… let me try to salvage the situation. Maybe… maybe I can still get us out of this without anyone else getting hurt. Anyone innocent, at least.”

“Do you know where you’re going?” Mitsuru asked.

“More or less. I can give Aigis-san the address, on top of making it very simple for her to follow me. It’s gonna be a mess, though. Especially if my co-worker’s the one been killed. I can meet you behind the old bakery at five this evening.”

“Oh, no,” Mitsuru said, “you’re not getting away that easily. You get two hours.”

“I’ll need that much time to just get into contact with my—employer!” The man sounded cornered. “You won’t even have to waste resources on me this way; the sleeper can help me get patched up and fed while I make contact.”

Mitsuru didn’t respond, focusing on the minimal early-morning traffic.

“Please,” Kasanoda pleaded, “I’m just trying to save some lives here.”

“Lives _you_ and your employer put in danger,” Mitsuru pointed out.

“All the more reason I should be the one to make it right again. Or, as close to it as I can manage.” He paused. “You’re both the leader of the Shadow Operatives and the Kirijo heir; is it possible for you to use that weight to get a corpse out from the local P.D. and into Shadow Ops’ custody?”

“Would it compromise the… situation, otherwise?” Aigis asked.

“I…” Kasanoda. “Yeah. Yeah, it would. If it’s our woman, she has a chip in her head. Used for communication and… it was a prototype for a control chip, too. Boss is… a hell of a piece of work. Who knows what else in ‘er is all messed up, or what else they put in her. Gods know I let them screw me up.”

“Aigis?” Mitsuru asked.

“It may be possible,” Aigis stated, “presuming they have not started the autopsy—one moment.” She cut herself off. “A message just went over the police frequency.” Aigis smiled. “I believe we may have just struck a lucky break; the assigned officer has just requested that Naoto-san be called in for consultation on the case.”

“Considering she’s the detective responsible for breaking the last two murder cases in Ina—wait.” Mitsuru stopped, hitting the breaks. Kasanoda bumped into the back of the passenger seat, before cursing.

“Damn it, man, you know I can’t put a seatbelt on with these cuffs.”

“Shirogane was nearly killed last night.” Mitsuru ignored him. “She lost a significant amount of blood. The healing spells will have mostly dealt with the loss and the wound itself, but she’s going to be weak for at least most of the day; she needs to rest, not chase a murderer.”

“Perhaps she will inform the police that she is ill and will be able to assist them tomorrow,” Aigis offered.

“No,” Mitsuru looked at her, “she’s far too stubborn for that. I suspect she’s been pushing herself already. And, if she wasn’t following at least one of us for observation before last night, she certainly will be now.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Aigis, I will need the number for her personal cell phone, please; I will send her a message, asking her to at least take care of herself.”

“Acknowledged.” Aigis nodded with a knowing smile.

“Meanwhile, I will reach out to our contact in Public Safety. Perhaps he can get that body released to them, and transferred to the Shadow Operatives from there.”

“Thank you,” Kasanoda said in little more than a whisper.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mitsuru said, pulling out her phone. “You better hope that your sleeper actually helps, and that nothing happens to Shirogane.” She looked back at him. “If she gets hurt again, you’ll have a lot worse after you than a bunch of angry teenagers with Personas.” She looked at Aigis. “If I didn’t have Yamagishi observing Akira-san today, I’d ask her to keep an eye on Shirogane. Openly, this time.”

“When you contact her,” Aigis suggested, writing something on a pad and handing it to Mitsuru, “perhaps you can request that she have someone stay with her today, to make sure that her condition remains stable.”

“There’s just two questions with that,” Mitsuru started typing in the number. “Will she swallow her pride long enough to do that? And, who will be willing to play babysitter for an entire Sunday?”

 

…

…

 

Kanji woke up far earlier than he’d wanted. Sleeping in a weird place could make that happen, but….

Wait. Where was he?

He turned over. He was facing cushions. Couch cushions. He was on a couch. Why was he sleeping on a—?

—Oh. Right.

He sat upright.

He was out all night. He never went home.

His mother was gonna kill him.

He glanced around Naoto’s drawing room.

It was Sunday. Maybe he could work with that. His mother usually slept in, and ran errands most of the day. The store generally wasn’t open on Sundays, unless a customer set an appointment. He might be able to convince her that he’d left early and was out most of the day.

Except he’d probably have to avoid going home until at least after noon, to have a shot of convincing his mother.

Part of him considered asking Naoto if he could continue to hide out at her apartment for a few more hours—it would let him keep an eye on her, too, make sure that she didn’t reopen her wound or something—but the idea of actually _asking_ made his stomach flip.

Well, he couldn’t leave before she woke up; she’d only be pissed at him again. After their fight, he wasn’t exactly eager to make her mad again. And, he had no desire to do so, anyway

He folded the blanket, before unfolding and refolding it again, and spent a few long minutes placing it on the couch, adjusting it several times before giving up. He looked at the clock on the wall.

_6:18 A.M._

Kanji sighed. He’d maybe gotten five hours of sleep, at most. And, he hadn’t slept very well throughout that. The faint edges of the nightmare—a swirl of darkness, dark purple figures, guns, and blood, and of the Team lying injured around him—still pulled at the back of his skull. Particularly the image of Naoto’s bleeding form, limp, in his arms. He attempted to force himself to forget the fact that _that_ image had been real, that it had really happened just a few hours ago.

He heard a soft, electronic sound—a ringtone. He looked around the room, eventually finding his phone on the low-standing table. It wasn’t ringing. Then, what—?

_Naoto,_ he cut the thought off. _It’s Naoto’s phone. Damn, does she really have an alarm for six in the freakin’ morning?_

He slowly, trying to be as quiet as he could—on the chance that she somehow slept through it—walked over to the door to her bedroom. He could hear the ringing behind it—and the sound of someone ruffling through blankets.

“Shirogane,” he heard her mutter as the sound abruptly stopped. Her voice was muffled by more than the door, and the word was almost slurred.

_Damn it._ Kanji’s chest tightened. _Please, just be tired from last night and no sleep. Don’t… please don’t be…._

“Yes.” Her voice cut through his thoughts. “What?” It was clearer now, more alert, and followed by the sounds of more shuffling. “Absolutely. I will arrive at the station within the hour. Please inform Dojima-san to hold off on any non-time-sensitive investigations until then. If he inquires, please tell him that it sounds similar to a case I worked with Public Safety on.” He heard the soft click of her phone shutting. “That should delay him until I’m able to contact Mitsuru-san.”

Kanji took a breath and knocked on the door.

“N-Naoto?” He said, keeping his voice low. “W-was that the cops? They callin’ ya in fer something?”

“I—!” He heard her start. “Yes. I… I’ll explain shortly. Could… would you be willing to assist me?”

“’Course.” He felt heat spread across his nose. “Wh-whadaya need?”

“Would… would you please set the coffee maker for me? I… may need a few minutes longer to dress than I normally would—and this case is quite urgent for the Team, as well as Inaba in general.”

“R-right!” Kanji nodded, despite her inability to see through the door. “R-right away!” He nearly tripped in his haste as he dashed to the kitchen.

When he got there, he found that she didn’t keep the coffee grounds for the brewer out. After a couple attempts, he figured out which cupboard housed the semi-metallic bags. He cursed to himself. How many bags of coffee did one person need? He pulled a couple down, reading the labels to find that not only did she keep several different flavors and types—including a single, perplexing bag of decaf—but a couple of them were actually imported; two had a label completely written in English, and another appeared to be written in… Spanish or Portuguese, Kanji couldn’t really tell. The two in English were the same flavor—something with chocolate—one of them open with maybe two cups’ worth used. The use-by date implied that they were probably one of the oldest bags in the cupboard. Yet, the opened one was kept at the front of the shelf.

It was probably one of her favorites, Kanji figured. Naoto hated getting rid of or wasting things. She was already frugal about purchases for herself, despite the financial security of the Shirogane estate. Which would probably explain why she’d hardly used her imported coffee, despite it being the oldest grounds in the cupboard; she wouldn’t want to waste a single drop of the brew, even just metaphorically.

_Well_ , Kanji decided, _after last night, I think she’d probably consider today a good morning for it_.

He carefully measured the right amount, setting the machine to brew. As the room filled with some of the rich aroma that the cupboard normally kept hidden, Kanji opened the fridge, finding a small bottle and pulling it out. Once the hot beverage was sufficiently brewed, he poured the single cup’s worth into a travel mug—she was going to have to go to the cop shop, and he knew she’d be too stubborn to listen if and when he told her to take it easy—and used a spoon to mix in the smallest amount of cream.

If she was going to push herself like this, she didn’t deserve to continue to punish herself further with even slight discomforts.

He picked it up, carrying it with him back to her room. She’d probably benefit from having a burst of caffeine sooner rather than later—as much as he hated her needing it to begin with, he knew better by now than to come between her and her job—and maybe he could do something else to help, too.

Kanji stood outside her door, travel mug of coffee in one hand, for a long moment. He cleared his throat.

“H-hey, Naoto. I got ya the…” He knocked lightly on the door—

—which was apparently slightly cracked, and creaked open from the light pressure.

Naoto was standing in her room, near her bed, glancing back over her shoulder at the unintended intruder as she froze mid-action, her arm half-way through a tan garment, her bare back completely facing—

—her _bare_ back.

Kanji’s face felt as if it had broken into flame.

“Ge-get—!” She started, her face pale.

“S-sorry!” Kanji looked away, scrambling to grab the door handle in his free hand and slam the door shut again, nearly smashing it against his nose. “I-I d-didn’t mean—I thought—door—closed—!” He struggled to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry!” He repeated.

Naoto didn’t respond. After a tense silence—the only sound he could make out being his own heartbeat and breathing—he eventually heard fabric ruffling. Apparently, she was at even more of a loss than he was.

Before his senses could even really begin to calm down, Kanji realized something.

“Uh…” He started. “Th-that… uh…. Y-ya d-didn’t… didn’t get th-that last… last night. The… the scar.”

Her back _did_ have a scar from the wound the Team had just healed a few hours ago, a rough, jagged circle near her left shoulder. What he’d managed to notice, despite needing a moment for it to register, was the long, equally jagged line that ran diagonally down her back, from near her right shoulder to her left side, midway down her back.

It was possible that she’d had it even before she first came to Inaba. It wasn’t as if Kanji had ever gotten a good look at her bare _anything_ , despite the efforts of some of their friends. But, the discoloration of the scar and the fact that he’d never heard any of the girls speak about it—they’d seen her bare back several times when they’d all gone to a springs together—even vaguely, made him suspect she’d gotten it in the last year, probably since they started their second year of school. He couldn’t decide if it was something Rise would have kept quiet and not somehow tease Kanji about in some way; really, it would depend on how _Naoto_ felt about the whole thing. Rise loved to get Kanji—and Naoto—flustered, but she knew where lines were, and tried to keep from crossing them. He already knew that Naoto’s body was one of them. Despite spending nearly as much time with Naoki as with Kanji over the summer, the former had not—as far as Kanji knew—seen Naoto wear an outfit with her chest completely unbound.

So, Kanji didn’t really expect her to answer but… if something had happened more recently….

She didn’t speak for a long time, until she emerged from her room, her gaze fixed on the floor in front of her. She was dressed in one of her typical waistcoat outfits, the main garment in question a dark blue accented by a bright yellow tie. Her chest, while visibly still bound, was much less so than usual.

_Probably doesn’t want to put pressure on anythin’ right now,_ Kanji thought. _Dunno if it would actually be a problem with… from last night, but… it wouldn’ surprise me if it still hurts a bit, at least._

_Not that she’ll ever admit it if it is._

Naoto beat her hat with one hat, as if dusting it. She put the hat on, pulling the brim down to shield her eyes—and, with her head still tilted down, hiding most of her face from his view.

“I was… attacked from behind while on a case.” She kept her voice down, as if ashamed of the event. Knowing her pride, it was probably a blow in more ways than one when it had happened. She continued after clearing her throat. “F-for Public Safety. In… in May.”

“May?” Kanji blinked at her.

She pointedly looked even further away, gripping her hat with one hand.

“Y-yes. D-during the… red fog incident.” Her voice was barely audible.

“The—?” He stiffened. That didn’t make sense. “But I was with ya fer most of that! Ya weren’t hurt when we met up, and we only split up once at….” He remembered her insistence that she aid him with his wounds—he tried to make himself not think the word _fuss_ , despite the heat returning to his cheeks—before she went up to the Junes roof and food court to investigate.

“Ya said ya were in a fight,” Kanji recalled. “But… but you….”

Naoto didn’t speak for a few minutes, simply standing there, her gaze focused on the wall molding near the floor. Kanji was about to suggest that they drop the subject—she was clearly uncomfortable discussing something that had nearly hurt—nearly killed—her, when she spoke in another almost-silent whisper.

“It was less than a minute after… my match with the false Shadow. Minazuki-san ambushed me from behind. I… was effectively crippled until the arrival of the Shadow Operatives Yukari-san and Labrys-san. The latter defended me directly while the former healed the wound. However, a Persona’s healing abilities do not always prevent scarring, as we are now all aware.”

“That bastard!” Kanji breathed, his vision tinted red for the briefest moment. “Won’er if Yu-senpai would’a let him jus’ go like that if he’d known….” He sighed, calming himself. “Why… uh… why didn’ ya say something? I… I could’a helped or… I dunno.”

“You were not present for the attack,” she continued to whisper. “I did not wish for you to feel guilt over something you had no control over. I… also admit to feeling shame over the incident; I was taken completely off-guard, when I should have been more observant of my surroundings.”

Kanji shook his head.

“Don’ beat yerself up over that. Senpai said that the red-haired bastard was sneaky like that. Ya know Senpai was always good at feelin’ that someone was there, and this guy’d surprised him twice, or something.” He paused. “H-how… how did ya keep him from… I mean, uh….”

“I am fortunately still an effective interrogator; I simply kept him talking and stalled for time until my rescuers arrived. It would seem that both personalities his body housed were rather fond of their shared voice.” She lifted her head enough that he could see the corners of her mouth curve just enough to make a smile. “And, to think. Moments before the attack I was concerned that you were going to stubbornly cause yourself further injury.”

“You were worried ‘bout me?” Kanji stared.

Naoto looked up at him, her eyes wide. She probably didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“I… yes.” She looked away. “I was under the impression that it was not unusual for—”

The apartment’s front door opened, the loud sound cutting her off.

“Akira-san,” Naoto breathed, walking quickly to the drawing room. Kanji followed close behind, stumbling slightly.

The woman was standing just in front of the door, struggling to close it behind her. Her sunglasses were mildly askew, but still covered both eyes, and her low-kept ponytail was a bit looser than she’d been wearing it, but she seemed otherwise composed.

Until she tried to walk.

The woman took a single step, before her knees seemed to give way. She nearly collapsed. Kanji managed to catch her under the arms before she fell to the floor, helping her back to her feet.

“Thank you, Kanji-kun,” Akira said softly. “Wait.” She looked at him. “Kanji-kun?” She looked at the clock on the wall and back. “What’re…?” She looked at Naoto, before shaking her head. “Never mind. Not my business.”

“Are you all right, Akira-san?” Naoto asked.

“I’m fine.” The woman looked away. “I had to literally throw someone out tonight. Er, last night. Whichever. Either way, he didn’t go without a fight.” She gave a short, dry laugh. “For a such thin guy, and half a foot shorter than me, he put up a hell of a struggle. I almost called the cops.”

Though, of course, Kanji already knew that Akira was terrified of the police. She would have to have no other option before she called them.

Kinda ironic, that she ended up being taken in—even as a sort of temporary hostage—by a detective and a special ops group.

“Is there anything we can assist—?” Naoto started.

“No!” Akira slunk back, keeping her head bowed. “I… I’m fine! I just need to get some sleep, ‘fore my next shift.” She gave them each a quick bow of the head, before rushing past them and into the office, closing and loudly locking the door behind her.

Kanji looked at Naoto, who was looking at the closed door, one hand pressed against her lips in thought.

“Hmm,” she eventually started. “Kanji-kun, would you—?”

She was cut off by her cellphone ringing again. She immediately picked it up.

“Shirogane,” her voice was much clearer than it had been with the last call. “Mitsu—! Y-yes, actually, I had been—I’m already on my—what? _What?_ ” Naoto’s face paled again. “Keep him under surveillance. I have already taken precaution. I will do everything I can to have it released into your custody as soon as possible. Would it be possible for an agent to meet me at the station in thirty minutes? Yes. I—what? That won’t be—I am perfectly—all right. For the sake of the investigation. Thank you.” She closed the phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” Kanji asked.

“At some point last night, someone was killed by an animal.”

“In Inaba?” Kanji’s eyes widened.

“Yes. Dojima-san suspects that it’s possible that it was not a random attack by a wild beast. He believes that it may have been orchestrated as a means for murder. The first call was an officer calling me in for assistance.” She took a deep breath. “Mitsuru-san called herself just now, asking that I insert myself into the investigation, to see what I can do to help the Shadow Operatives take control of the case, if it ends up being related to… everything else.”

“I… see,” Kanji muttered. “D-don’t push yerself too hard, a’right?”

“It would seem I am going to require your assistance on that regard.” Naoto looked away.

“Huh?”

“Mitsuru-san also expressed concern over the timing of this case, being immediately following a… severe injury. Healing spells or no, she is worried that my energy will be easily depleted for the next few days. She has insisted that I keep one of the Team nearby throughout my work today, until I return home, to prevent me… facing complications on my own.” She hesitated. “Logic dictates that I request your assistance in this prior to the others, as you are already present and….” She cleared her throat. “I know you will not be… over… er, excessively….” She looked at the floor. “If that is not permissible, I understand. Per-perhaps I could—”

“Ya mean,” Kanji started, “ta follow ya and make sure yer… not attacked again? Or somethin’ like that?” He knew it was also likely to make sure that she didn’t push herself too hard, and reopen her wound or something. And, to make sure that there wasn’t something still wrong that the healing spells didn’t fix.

Rise had texted him just before he’d crashed on her couch, asking him to make sure she wasn’t excessively out of breath. Apparently she was worried that Naoto’s ribs had been broken and might have gotten her lung.

If it did, the heal spells seemed to have put everything back right again. But, he understood her worry.

And, after that text, there was no way he could attempt to sneak back home; he had to make sure she woke up okay in the morning.

He just hadn’t expected it to be such an early one.

“More or less,” Naoto said, shrugging one shoulder. She looked at the clock. “If you are not able or otherwise…. I can easily request said assistance from—”

“S-sure,” Kanji cut her off. “I… I can do that.” He looked away, the heat spreading from his face and down his neck. “What…what d’ya need me ta do first?” He paused. “Oh! Coffee!” He handed her the travel mug.

She took it wordlessly, giving it an inspecting sniff before taking a slow sip. Her face betrayed her surprise at the flavor.

“Thank you.” The words were whispered but sincere. “A-actually.” She stared at the lid for a long moment. “While… while it’s still dark… I need us to start with something… technically illegal.”

Kanji stared.

 

…

…

 

It was not the first time Kanji had been on a bike while someone was riding pillion. It _was_ the first time _he’d_ been the passenger as such, however, and the first time it had been on a _motor_ bike.

The idea that it was technically illegal for the size of moped didn’t bother him, though the technical safety risk did, more than a little.

But that was all drowned out by the pulsing terror that coursed through him.

He was riding pillion on Naoto’s motorbike. Behind her. Her. Her bike. The seat wasn’t really large enough, leading to him needing to press much closer against her back than either of them were quite comfortable with. He was pressed. Against her back. Her back.

He tried to force himself to forget the image of her bare back.

It had been an accident, of course, but he was afraid that it was now burned into his memory. And he didn’t know what scared him more: the idea of forever knowing what her bare back looked like or the fact that her back was so deeply marked by those scars.

Because scars meant wounds. Which meant she’d been hurt. Twice.

And he’d been virtually helpless to do anything useful each time.

No, that wasn’t fair to himself. He’d already been injured himself the first time—that was why he wasn’t there when the red-haired bastard had attacked her—and Naoto’d been right. He _had_ noticed the second time at the last second. He’d tried to get her clear, to push her out of the way. Maybe he _had_ saved her life with that. Maybe. He didn’t know, couldn’t know, no way to tell. All he could know was how close she’d come to dying anyway.

All because he’d been an idiot and let himself blow up during their fight. Because he didn’t know how to handle the fallout until after… everything. Because, despite everything, he still wasn’t sure how to handle this… whole thing… as an adult.

And, being pressed against Naoto’s back on her moped’s tiny seat, her helmet lightly scraping against the underside of his jaw, and his arms wrapped around her tiny waist—it baffled him how small she really was— _no, don’t think about it, don’t think about it. Do. Not. Think. About. It_ —and how warm— _Don’t_ —certainly wasn’t helping matters, either. Particularly since he was worried about the placement of his grip the entire time, trying to make sure it stayed roughly near the border of her ribcage and stomach as much as possible; any higher would be an obvious problem, and any lower would be even more so.

He also hoped against hope that the constant burning of his face—his skull was pretty much cooking in the spare helmet she’d lent him—meant that there was absolutely no blood left over to allow for— _other_ —reactions. Especially after the incident with her door, the last thing he needed right now was her thinking he was a complete pervert; she’d been rather irritated with Yosuke during her first couple weeks on the Team due to some of the things he’d said.

His terror seemed to work for him in that regard, if nothing else. By the time she slowed the bike to a stop in the police department lot, Kanji was convinced that he would never get his heart to beat regularly again—and that Naoto had to know about it—about him and how he—

“Kanji-kun?” Her voice cut through his thoughts.

“Huh?” The engine was off. “What?”

“Are you all right?” She asked.

“I think so.”

“C-can… can you, er… I am currently unable to dismount.”

_What?_ He paused. He looked down at her. She didn’t seem to be hurt or otherwise hindered, except for— _Oh._

He let go of her, shuffling backwards off of the bike. He staggered around in the mostly-empty parking lot for a moment, failing to recompose himself while she apparently ignored his flailing around to dismount and set up her moped’s kickstand. She took off her helmet, hanging it off of the bike’s handle. She turned to face him, her face completely blank in the low light from the lamp above the lot. She seemed completely unfazed by the very scenario that had nearly resulted in Kanji’s heart beating itself to a paste against his own ribs.

Could she really be that clueless? 

“What?” Kanji asked.

“I will need to return the spare helmet to my storage compartment,” she said, her voice level. “Hanging two from the handlebars will simply raise a number of questions, particularly seeing as it is illegal for this class of vehicle to carry any person beyond the driver.”

Kanji blinked at her for a long moment. She was being wordier than usual.

Maybe—

“Oh!” The meaning sunk in. “S-sure!” He took off the helmet, handing it to her. “Be kinda bad if someone knew ya were givin’ people rides.” She stiffened in reaction, closing the storage lid again. “O-on yer bike! Rides on yer bike!” He cleared his throat and pulled on his hoodie.

Naoto nodded once, but said nothing. She adjusted her coat—the black, single-breasted one.

_Well, between her main, solid blue, double-breasted coat apparently getting’ slashed in May, and her plaid one getting stabbed last night, it’s prob’ly her last one._

Unless she still had that coat from New Year’s….

He awkwardly shuffled behind her, following as she silently made her way into the department building. He watched as her shoulders moved subtly with each step; her left side slumped slightly, moving a little more sharply. She was stiff or sore or… or something.

He tried to change his trail of thought.

_Blue. She likes blue. A lot. Looks really good in blue, too. So, something blue. Simple, too, no fancy patterns or nothin’ like that. Somethin’ like navy or a dark teal? And longer, maybe? Nothin’ crazy, but somethin’ that’ll help keep ‘er warm. It’s been really cold fer fall lately._

_Buttons. Double-breasted? Single? Duffle-style? Peacoat? Or, maybe a type with a belt? She’d probably look really good in a military-style, too. Hmm—_

He had to stop sharply to keep from barreling into her as she approached Dojima’s desk.

“Dojima-san,” she said in a level voice, apparently completely unaware of her companion’s awkward shuffling behind her.

“Shirogane-san,” he greeted her, looking up from his mug and a file with a haggard expression. He glanced behind her, his face softening as he made brief eye contact with Kanji. “Kanji Tatsumi.” Kanji felt the blood surge back to his face. Dojima looked back to Naoto. “Please tell me you aren’t arresting him.”

“Not at all,” Naoto still sounded uninterested. “Kanji-kun is assisting me with a family matter today.”

It would have been a pretty good cover—it was no secret that they were friends, even to the cops, and Kanji knew from some of the gossip he overheard that they were just as aware of his… fondness for the young detective as their classmates were—except for the fact that it wasn’t even seven in the morning, yet, and it was Sunday.

“Good.” Dojima didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press the issue. “I have enough on my plate without having to tell Tatsumi-san that I had to lock up her son.” He stood up. “Wait here for a minute.” He closed the file on his desk, before walking quickly down the hall.

“Uh,” Kanji started, scratching at the back of his neck. He watched as a young cop in full uniform—down to the cap—burst into the squad room with a disposable mug of coffee in each hand.

“Doji—Shirogane-san!” The cop—his face and what was visible of his light, scruffy hair suggested he wasn’t much older than the teenagers—attempted to snap to attention, instead only managing to splash small amounts of coffee out of the lids and onto his hands. The cop hissed, but managed to not curse or otherwise cry out.

“Good morning, Kita-san,” Naoto said, giving him a polite nod.

The young cop looked at Kanji, then back and forth between him and Naoto for a moment, before stuttering a half-coherent apology and making an awkward bow. He then practically sprinted out of the room again.

“Uh,” Kanji tried to ignore the burning heat on his cheeks. “D-d’ya think maybe I shoul’ go, uh, do something fer ya while ya get things handled here? I dun think yer gonna pass out or anything here; not with cops swarming all over.”

“I would be concerned if there weren’t officers here.” Naoto almost sounded amused. Maybe she was. Her lips were held in a thin, straight line. She was clearly too tired to really summon much in the way of emotion or expression.

“I-I mean,” Kanji stammered, “ya ain’t gotta worry ’bout….” He cleared his throat. “But. ‘S early, ya know?” He watched as another plainclothes detective dashed down the hallway past the room. “I dun exactly fit in here.”

“On the contrary,” Naoto said, “you are here as a personal favor to myself, permitting me to more easily assist the department with this case. As such, you _do_ belong.”

Damn it, did she need him to draw her a map?

“Naoto,” he hissed through his clenched jaw. He took a step closer, to prevent eavesdropping. “It’s seven in the morning. Sunday. And I’m here. With…. People ’re gonna talk, ya know?”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, before focusing her gaze on the file on Dojima’s desk. Her fingers twitched slightly. She took a long breath.

“I am aware that numerous individuals at Yasogami are already under the assumption that….” She trailed off before lowering her voice. “They are of the belief that we are sleeping together.” Her cheeks looked a little pink; good, she _was_ noticing things, after all. And, the fact that it got even such a minimal reaction from her meant that the idea wasn’t something she considered so insane as to completely ignore. And that was good, right?

Right?

“Regardless,” her voice softened a little, the pitch a little higher than she normally spoke, “my relationships, be they platonic, romantic, or sexual, are not of their concern—nor are they of the concern of the department here. We are aware of the standing of our friendship. We permit the Team knowledge of such. Naoki-kun, as well. No one else has any need of prying into our private lives.” She paused, before the corners of her mouth curved into a barely noticeable smile. “Unless you have recently committed a murder or other serious crime you haven’t informed me about.”

Kanji tried to ignore the way his heart was bashing against his ribs again—the damn thing was gonna turn itself into paste at this rate.

“Nah, man,” he tried to roll with the joke. “I mean, last I checked, Yosuke was still alive, so….”

Naoto choked, trying to hold back a laugh.

“I believe you are the least of his worries at the moment.” Her smile widened the slightest bit.

“Whadaya mean?” Kanji blinked at her. “Somethin’ happen?”

“Nothing currently of our concern,” Naoto said simply.

_What?_

“I have a feeling that this may take a short while,” Naoto changed the subject. “And, regardless of… anything else, I may have an easier time making sure things are… handled smoothly… if Dojima-san and the rest of the department do not believe they are also divulging information to a civilian.”

_They don’t want me listenin’ in,_ Kanji translated. _Makes sense. Even I know that much ‘bout cops_.

“In the meantime,” Naoto continued, “I have a locker in the squad’s room downstairs.” She handed Kanji a key. “Ironically, it was previously Adachi’s.”

“He’d be pissed if he knew.” Kanji refrained from a smile. During the fight in the TV world, and during the whole thing with the red fog in May, Adachi had demonstrated a personal hatred of Naoto. It wasn’t a surprise; Adachi was a misogynistic, self-centered, egotistical asshole. Naoto was a stubborn detective who’d proven herself even more skilled and observant and smart than he’d ever been. She hadn’t been as completely fooled by the different tricks he’d played during the serial murders. And, she was a teenager. And a girl. The idea that she’d not only surpassed him in skill, but had more than replaced him in an almost-direct manner like that….

Kanji hoped that if the asshole ever found out, that he’d be there to see the look on the bigoted psychopath’s face.

“Perhaps,” Naoto said. “In any case, I currently keep several sets of clothes, one for each member of the Team, in paper bags in my locket. Presuming you have not undergone another growth spurt since the end of July, the one marked with your name should suffice. You can use the empty backpack to store your current outfit for today.”

“So, you have my measurements?” Kanji held back a smirk. “All of ours?”

“What?” Naoto blinked at him. “No, I had generic sizing information when….” She cleared her throat, looking at the floor. “It… it doesn’t matter now.” She crossed her arms. “The men’s room attached to the locker room should be unoccupied at this hour.”  

“O-okay,” Kanji said with a stiff nod. “I’ll… I’ll be back. Uh… t-text me if… when….” He looked at the floor. “L-later.”

He shuffled quickly out of the room. He nearly collided with one of the officers on his way down the stairs.

“Hey, Tatsumi, watch where—!” The cop staggered backwards down to the landing again. “Wait. What’re you doing here so early? Fight another biker gang?”

“No.” Kanji didn’t take the bait, continuing to walk towards the room opposite the staircase landing. “Ask Dojima-san; he can tell ya.”

The name drop seemed to be enough, as the cop left him alone and continued back up the stairs.

Kanji was able to find the locker Naoto had mentioned easily enough, opening it with the key. Inside, it appeared to be almost completely empty, holding only a spare, small Yasogami jacket on one hook, the mentioned backpack on another, and a pile of labeled, brown paper packages on the bottom. Each package—presumably of clothes—was labeled with each Team member’s name in black marker ink—and there was one for Naoki, too. He found the one marked with his name, and took it and the pack with him as he went to the restroom at the back.

He changed quickly; the clothes were a slight variation of the standard school uniform—a pair of Yasogami’s black slacks and a white uniform shirt, but she’d also included a pale lavender tank top. He smiled as he slipped it on. Naoto definitely knew him much better than she thought.

He felt the light blush tint his cheeks as he stuffed his dirty clothes into the backpack.

She even knew about his fondness for various shades of purple. He wondered what else she knew. He hadn’t been lying before, when he’d reassured her that they were friends—and that, so long as she wanted him around, he’d be there for her.

He walked over to the sink, turning on the cold water and rinsing his face with it. He then ran his fingers under the water, then through his hair. He gave his glasses a quick wash, too, before turning the water off again and looking in the mirror.

Well, it wasn't perfect, but at least he looked like he hadn’t just spent the night on Naoto’s couch. Again.

That had been, perhaps, the most frustrating part of the whole thing. That Naoto seemed completely unaware of the… implications of them spending so much time together. Until this morning, he thought that she was completely oblivious. After all, that asshole Takazawa had to pretty much outright accuse them of sleeping together for her to understand what he’d been harassing them about.

Actually, she seemed to have forgotten about that particular encounter—and there hadn’t been any more run-ins with the bastard since.

Kanji just hoped it stayed that way; Naoto had enough on her mind.

 

…

…

 

“You look terrible.”

“Thank you very much,” Kasanoda did nothing to hide his irritation. “Are you going to let me in?”

The woman—dressed in a sharp, feminine-cut grey suit with short-cut, dark brown hair—stood aside, permitting the half-beaten man to walk through the front door of her home.

Kasanoda simply kicked off his shoes and stumbled into the living room, collapsing face-first onto the couch.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” The woman asked. “Or, are you just going to sleep on my couch all day?”

“Ngh,” Kansanoda groaned. “Not so loud. I need a direct line to… to the boss. Now.”

“Why?”

_Because I outrank you and said so,_ the man’s frustration built into a bitter taste.

“Because our… colleague has disobeyed a direct order and seems to have gotten herself killed.”

“What?” The woman breathed.

“So,” Kasanoda continued, “I clearly need to talk to the big man—like five minutes ago.”

“Right!” The woman said sharply, before dashing out of the room and up the stairs.

_Damn it_ , Kasanoda scolded himself. _I was supposed to get food, too._ He sighed. _I’ll get up in a minute._

He felt the object in his jacket pocket vibrate.

_The cell phone Kirijo-san had me take_.

Kasanoda was certain that Aigis was standing directly across the street from the house, probably staring straight at the front door, waiting. So, why would…?

He pulled the phone out, flipping it open against his ear without even looking at it.

“Yes.”

“We have secured the target,” Mitsuru’s voice was emotionless on the other end, “though not without great effort.”

_She got the body into Shadow Op custody already?_ Shock ran down Kasanoda’s aching back. _I’m sure she’s understating how hard that was._ He sighed silently.

“We will expect you at the rendezvous at the agreed time,” Mitsuru said, before the call ended with a soft click.

_Well, that should be_ one _disaster averted,_ Kasanoda allowed himself another, loud sigh. _For now._

He slowly pushed himself up into a normal, sitting position.

_Now, I need to get into contact with Mister-High-and-Mighty and convince him to recall that trigger-happy idiot._

_Or,_ he narrowed his eyes, staring at the floor, _maybe I should just eliminate him myself…._

 

…

…

 

Kanji stumbled as he tried to keep up. How on earth someone thirty centimeters shorter than him could walk so much faster, he had no clue.

But Naoto seemed to be on a mission from the gods, as she traveled down the Shopping District, asking various individuals questions—all of them vague, the police didn’t want the town overreacting to news of a homicide investigation.

She didn’t seem to be getting much of anything useful, though. For the most part, everyone she’d talk to this morning had either not noticed anyone suspicious, or had only talked about that small group of bikers that Kanji and Naoto had run into a few weeks back.

Naoto mentioned briefly to him that Mitsuru had managed to get the body released to Shadow Operative custody—officially to Public Safety—under the cover of a potential security risk, and how half the Inaba cops were more than a little pissed off. Even Dojima was upset, saying how it wasn’t going to be easy to investigate a murder when the department wasn’t allowed access to the body. Mitsuru had apparently taken this into account, according to Naoto, as the Shadow Op agent quickly agreed to have all relevant details they could share forwarded directly to Dojima himself, including the cause of death.

Naoto was relieved that they were able to diffuse the tension at least somewhat for the time being, but was clearly eager to solve the crime as fast as possible.

Any case where the Shadow Operatives had to work secretly like this had to be equally stressful for them, too, Kanji realized. Especially Mitsuru, who would likely be the one calling the shots for her team, and trying to make everyone happy.

In any case, by the time noon rolled around, the only info Naoto—with Kanji in tow—had managed to salvage from questioning the different residents and shop owners in the Shopping District had been that one of the bikers seemed to have broken off from the main gang—which was probably just a misinterpretation of that Kasanoda guy from the night before being in town—and that some of the town had apparently noticed the new bartender at the Shiroku Pub at night—though, much to Naoto’s relief, no one seemed to know where the woman lived or, in fact, much about her at all.

Other than that relief, though, Naoto was becoming increasingly frustrated. Unlike Dojima and the rest of the department, she and Kanji knew that this murder case as almost definitely connected to the other strange things going on in Inaba recently—especially when Mitsuru had called to tell Naoto that the victim had been attacked—killed—during the final minutes of the Dark Hour.

When Kanji heard her curse under her breath after the owner of the hobby store had had nothing useful to add—nor did the two kids who’d been wandering said store—he knew that he needed to give herself something else to focus on.

“So, uh,” he stammered as he followed her out to the street. “A-Aiya’s right next door. Wh-whadaya say we get some lunch or somethin’?”

“Hmm.” Naoto brought one hand to her mouth, flipping through her small, black notebook with the other. She didn’t respond otherwise.

“Naoto?” Kanji raised his voice a little when she didn’t say anything for a long minute.

“Yes, Kanji-kun?” Naoto still didn’t look up from the page.

“Shouldn’t ya get lunch?” Kanji asked again. He lowered his voice again. “I mean, ya really shouldn’ push yerself too hard t’day, ya know?”

Naoto made a soft humming noise and continued to flip through her notes for another few moments, before eventually nodding once.

“Yes, it would probably be wise to keep myself sufficiently nourished and hydrated,” she said, before also lowering her voice. “I had not realized how long it has been since…. I apologize. Thank you for reminding me, Kanji-kun.”

“No problem,” Kanji grumbled with a shrug. “Aiya good? …Mean, ’s right there.”

Naoto nodded wordlessly, before leading him to the Chinese diner.

Weirdly, for near lunchtime, the restaurant was nearly empty, with just one person seated in the far back table, slowly eating what appeared to be a bowl of noodles.

“Hello,” a nearly-monotone voice greeted them.

Kanji looked over to the older girl behind the counter.

“Hello, Aika-san,” Naoto greeted the third-year student with a polite nod. She took a seat at the middle table, with Kanji hesitantly sitting across it from her. Naoto took out one of the menus from the stand against the wall, reading it over, apparently oblivious as Kanji slowly looked up at her.

Naoto’s brow was furrowed in deep concentration, barely visible against the curved brim of her hat. Her thin frown deepened slightly, before she pulled the hat off, placing it on the table near her. She exhaled in a short huff once, before running one hand through her dark hair. Kanji noticed how the corners of her lips twitched slightly, and her right ring finger gently tapped the table as she apparently tried to decide on what to order.

Far from the first time today, Kanji found his lungs freezing for just a moment.

_And, she nearly_ died _last night._ He still couldn’t shake the dread—or the guilt. He wondered if he ever would. He remembered how terrified he’d been when Naoto had been kidnapped last year, and the Team was scrambling to get enough info for Rise to find the young detective. They hadn’t been friends back then, and Naoto had actually been pretty much a jerk in general. Yet… it hadn’t just been his then-inexplicable crush that had motivated Kanji so fiercely to find her. Even then, he’d known that there was _something_ about the detective that he understood, that there was something about their insecurities that they shared.

_Ta think_ , Kanji noted with a soft smile, _if she hadn’t had that fight with that ass Adachi, and if Aika hadn’ seen the whole thing, we mighta never found her._

_Aika!_ The realization shot through him, almost literally, causing him to sit upright with a sharp jolt.

“Kanji-kun?” Naoto looked up from her menu—Kanji still hadn’t taken one. “Is everything all right?”

“Y-yeah.” Kanji looked away, trying to ignore the heat running across the bridge of his nose. He adjusted his glasses.

He looked to the side of the table to see Aika standing there. The older girl didn’t speak, simply looking back and forth between them expectantly.

Horror slowly crept over Kanji’s shoulders, clenching his throat shut.

He heard Naoto order, but couldn’t quite make out her words over the sound of the blood pulsing in his ears. He stammered something without thinking, immediately hoping that it sounded at least sort of like what he wanted to order.  

Aika nodded once at each of them before going back behind the counter to relay the order to her father by the stove and fryers.

Kanji glanced at Naoto, who had redirected her attention towards her notebook again.

“Are you all right, Kanji-kun?” Naoto asked, not looking up. “You appear to be somewhat distracted this morning.”

Kanji grumbled something in response, making an effort to not point out that it really wasn’t morning, anymore.

“If you are tired,” Naoto continued anyway, “I would not be offended if you stopped at your home after lunch to rest.” She lowered her voice, so only he could hear. “I do not believe I am going to… be at risk… from this point on.”

Kanji shook his head.

“Nah,” he finally made his voice work properly. “I’m still cool. ‘Sides,” he leaned forward slightly as he dropped his own voice again, “if Mitsuru-san found out, she’d kill both a’ us.”

Naoto smiled slightly, but still didn’t look up.

Kanji heard footsteps behind him—from the front door—and stiffly sat up again. He glanced quickly behind him to see—

—No one by the door.

_The hell?_ Kanji blinked. He turned to his right when he heard the soft sound of someone taking a seat at the counter.

Kanji stared at the local Shrine’s fox, her back to him as she sat at said seat. The fox dropped a small bag on the counter and yipped once.

“Right,” Aika responded, as if the animal had spoken. “Here’s your order.” She placed a small box, wrapped in a large, black handkerchief, on the counter in front of the fox.

The fox yipped once at Aika, wagging her tail, before nudging the small purse—the contents jingling audibly—towards the teenage girl. Aika took it, counting the coins.

“Very good,” she said in her usual near-monotone, giving the fox a thumbs-up. “Thank you. Come again.”

The fox yipped once more, before she grabbed the handkerchief’s knot in her mouth, jumped down off the seat, and bounded out the door and out of sight.

Kanji blinked, gaping at the empty doorframe. He turned to the table again, staring at the wood-like pattern, and not at his friend seated across from him.

_That should be even weirder to me than it is,_ he noted to himself. He looked over at Aika again. _How does she keep so cool all the time? Like, it doesn’ even faze her at all ta have a fox order takeout._ Not that he didn’t think the fox was smart—she had proven herself to be very intelligent, back when she’d helped the Team on its trips into the TV. But.

But, the fox couldn’t _really_ talk.

_Could it?_

Kanji forced himself to look at the table again.

_Wait a minute!_ He realized. _Aika! She hears all sorts a’ stuff from people all day!_

“Hey!” He turned over towards the third year. “Hey, Aika—uh, Aika-san. Ya gotta minute?”

“Hmm?” She walked towards the table. “Sure. What’s up?”

“Kanji-kun?” Naoto looked up at him.

“You still make deliveries all ’round Inaba and see people all the time here and alla that, right?”

“Yes.”

“Have ya seen or heard anythin’ weird lately?” Kanji asked.

Naoto’s face lit up.

“Of course!” The detective said brightly. “Aika-san?”

“Anything weird?” Aika echoed.

“Or suspicious,” Naoto added with a nod.

“Hmm,” Aika looked up at the ceiling in thought. “There has been a strange man in town recently; he’s been eating here a lot.” She paused. “He doesn’t speak much and always takes the table in the corner, if it’s open.”

_Sounds like someone who doesn’ wanna be noticed._ Kanji looked at Naoto. Her eyes were glazed over in that familiar manner for a split second, before she spoke up.

“Was there anything in particular that was strange about him?” Naoto asked.

“He always managed to pay with exact change.” Aika blinked to herself. “He always ate his noodles with plum sauce, too.”

Kanji chuckled softly.

_That’s weird, yeah. Doesn’ sound like anything tha’s—_

“And he seemed to know Akira-san, Shiroku-san’s new bartender.”

Naoto and Kanji both started, gaping at her.

“What?” They both nearly shouted, startling the only other customer in the restaurant.

“Yeah,” Aika said with a nod. She paused, shifting from one foot to another for a couple moments. “I was returning home from a shift, helping at the Inn. I overheard them arguing over something in the alley behind the hobby shop next door. Something about how the man had lied to her about something. I was surprised at how angry she was; I’ve never heard her even raise her voice before.”

_If I ever see Aika_ look _surprised,_ Kanji mused to himself, _I’ll prob’ly die a’ shock._

“You know Akira-san?” Naoto asked.

Aika hummed, shrugging one shoulder.

“She comes here to eat a couple times a week. She’s not very talkative, but others have mentioned how pleasant-natured she is at the Pub.” Aika paused again, before looking at Naoto. “She seems to be familiar with you. Do you know if she was all right after last night?”

“Her parents were acquaintances of my grandfather,” Naoto lied on the spot. “As a result, yes, I have met with her a few times since she’s arrived. As for your question, I only saw her briefly this morning. She didn’t appear to be injured or otherwise troubled.” Another lie. The woman had clearly been freaked out about _something_. What’d that bastard say to her last night?

_Lied to her about something_ , the words echoed in Kanji’s head.

_You’re lying!_ A group of familiar voices shouted in response. _You’re not—!_

“If you see her tonight,” Naoto cut the voices off, “please try to find out if she is still troubled, by last night or otherwise. But, please be discreet, as well.”

“Of course.” Aika didn’t seem to have caught either lie. Or, if she had, she didn’t seem to care.

_If Naoto’s a hard person ta read, Aika is outright_ impossible. _I bet even Yukiko’s freaked out during her shifts at the Inn._

Aika walked away for a moment, returning with their plates of food.

“Here’s your order,” she said flatly as ever. “Enjoy.” She returned to the counter.

Kanji looked at Naoto. She was glaring at her bowl of rice, her lips pressed in a firm line. She exhaled slowly through her nose, quickly writing something down in her notebook, before picking up her chopsticks and focusing her attention on her meal.

 

…

…

 

Kasanoda lay on the couch, on his side, staring at the empty plate on the low table in front of him. He held the phone to his ear with one hand.

A loud, high-pitched tone filled the room. Kasanoda hated it.

_Bastard won’t even talk. Using this fuckin’ nightmare instead._

It gave him a headache. But, he understood, as if someone _was_ speaking. It didn’t really translate into _words_ , per se, not even in his head. More like… feelings and intention.

But it was enough to understand.

“Acknowledged,” he said, as soon as the sound ended. He closed the phone. “And, fuck you, too.” He pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked at the clock. “I’m gonna be late, if I don’t get my ass movin’.” He leapt to his feet. “At least I’m in better shape again.”

Without even looking for the sleeper agent, he walked to the front door again. He glanced behind him. He looked at the phone in his hand, before slipping it in the inner pocket of his jacket.

_Gonna have to find some way to really hide this. Just in case._

He left the house without another word, leaping over the fence outside without opening the gate and walking quickly down the street.

He knew immediately that he was being followed. By several individuals.

And more than one of them weren’t human.

 

…

…

 

“Nao…to!” Kanji breathed behind her, as he struggled to keep up. Strange, as he was certainly in better shape than she was, and she hadn’t exactly been in top form today.

Perhaps something else was ailing him, Naoto considered. Regardless, she couldn’t risk losing sight, not now.

“Quiet, Kanji-kun,” she breathed back at him, as she stopped for a split second. She then started walking quickly—nearly breaking into a run—alongside the hedge. She heard someone stop on the other side, halting her own pace immediately.

She felt Kanji collide into her back. Pain shot through her, causing her vision to flash white with a silent gasp, but she managed to stay upright. She glanced back at him.

_Sorry_ , Kanji mouthed at her. _Can’t stop fast._

Naoto nodded, but said nothing.

He was right. He was tall and… well-built. He had significantly more mass than she did. Therefore, he couldn’t stop as quickly or completely as she could.

Naoto held her breath, hoping that the sound didn’t alert the person on the other side of the hedge. She noticed a slight gap in the foliage, leaning down a bit to look up through it.

Akira stood on the other side of the hedge, staring straight ahead, along the path outside the park.

Naoto had noticed her about an hour after lunch, and quickly deduced from her behavior that she was following someone—and assumed that it was the man Akira had heard her with last night. If there was someone from her past in Inaba, then Naoto and the others needed to know. Especially if they were one of those who had kidnapped and experimented on her. Not that Akira had given them any hint; she hadn’t spoken a single word the whole time, at least nothing Naoto could hear.

When she’d gotten close enough to actually see the person Akira was tailing, she nearly fell back and called Mitsuru on the spot. But, something in the back of her mind, in her gut, told her to keep following the both of them.

_Kasanoda-san_. The man that Mitsuru had supposedly taken captive during the last Dark Hour. Who apparently knew what was going on. But.

Why was he free?

So, they’d followed Akira, who was following him, from the southern end of the Shopping District, through Inaba, and into the park. And then Akira took the path just outside the park.

With Kanji in tow behind Naoto.

He didn’t seem to like the idea of spying, on any of them, but he also didn’t exactly seem happy to see that Kasanoda was free again.

Naoto knew that _she_ had a few questions for both him and Mitsuru, the next chance she got.

She stopped, allowing Akira to get some distance ahead. Naoto didn’t want to alert her by following too close for too long. She pulled on the brim of her hat.

“I knew I should have put her under direct surveillance,” Naoto said to herself.

“Why?” Kanji whispered. “Spyin’ on her isn’t gonna….” He took a deep breath.

Naoto tensed, not entirely sure why at first. She saw a figure appear to merge through the hedge a while down the—no, he was coming through the entrance!

Naoto cursed under her breath, pressing herself back against the hedge and using one arm to push Kanji into it, as well.

Kanji cursed as well, more bitter than hers. He coughed softly, spitting out a few bits of foliage.

“What—?”

“Shh!” Naoto hushed him.

Kasanoda ran down the path, perpendicular from the hedge, and into the park. Unlike before, he seemed panicked.

After a couple of moments, Akira followed suit, her expression much firmer and clearly irritated in some degree. Her long coat swayed behind her.

There was no way she’d tail him for long.

Naoto stiffened, hearing a familiar sound. Footsteps with a slightly hollow echo to them. Her lungs froze as she saw Aigis, clad in a black suit complete with shoes to disguise her true nature, dash through the gap in the hedge, following after the others.

_What on Earth is going on?_ Naoto relaxed. She started to walk after them, until her knees suddenly gave out under her. Before she could collapse to the ground, however, she felt something grab her from the underarms, lifting her back to her feet. She looked back.

“Thank you, Kanji-kun,” she said softly. “It would appear that even one’s second wind cannot last forever.”

“And ya wanted me ta go home and leave ya alone,” Kanji said in a low voice she suspected she wasn’t supposed to hear.

She looked at the ground, an embarrassed heat spreading across her face.

“I am sorry.”

“Fer what?” Kanji asked.

“Never mind.” Naoto said. She started to walk after the others again. Odds were very thin, indeed, that she would catch up to any of them at this point. But, her stubborn pride wouldn’t let her just give up after tailing them for over an hour.

Anything she could find out at this point would be worth it. She didn’t want to go home empty-handed. So to speak.

After a few minutes, however, she found herself stopping against her will, her legs simply no longer able to carry her forward. She stopped at the base of a large tree, just at a turn in the sidewalk. She leaned her side against the bark, allowing herself to breathe deeply.

_Maybe I should take this off_ , she mused to herself. _So… maybe I_ should _go home now._

“You all right?” Kanji asked.

She glanced back at him, nodding once.

“I am simply tired.” She looked around the tree, down the path’s bend. “It has been a long day, and—damn it!” She cursed suddenly.

“What?” Kanji asked sharply.

Akira was walking down the paved path—right towards them. Her gaze was directed downward, the only reason she hadn’t noticed them.

“Akira-san is coming,” Naoto breathed as she pulled herself back and out of the woman’s potential view. But, that wouldn’t last long. “She can’t have any reason to suspect we’re following her!” She turned to walk down the other way, away from the woman.

She cursed in English under her breath.

Takazawa and his cronies were walking down the path from that direction—the only reason they hadn’t seen her or Kanji yet was because they were too busy laughing at something or other. There was no way to avoid that for much longer, though, unless they walked straight into Akira.

She did _not_ want to deal with his bigotry right now. Or his insecurities. Not today. Not with everything else. Not with—no, she had to think right now.

Akira. Or Takazawa. She didn’t exactly want to run into either, and each one would run the risk of running into—or at least being seen by—both.

Panic built in Naoto’s chest.

“Takazawa-senpai’s coming from that direction,” Naoto breathed, nodding towards them.

“Whadaya think we should do?”

Naoto looked around quickly. She had to choose one. It wasn’t as if she could just….

She looked at the tree. It was solid, and tall, and the leaves, while a mix of yellow and red, were still thick among the higher branches. A person could easily hide themselves within them.

Or two.

“Kanji-kun.” She nodded at it. “The tree. Now.”

“What?” Kanji looked at her, just before she grabbed the lowest-hanging—and somewhat bare—branch and used it to nearly pole-vault herself up into the tree. “What,” Kanji repeated in a monotone.

“Kanji-kun!” She hissed through her clenched jaw. She managed to get herself somewhat situated on a branch, leaving enough room on it between her and the trunk for Kanji to join her. She wasn’t going to abandon him to Takazawa.

“Damn it,” Kanji cursed to himself, before pulling himself awkwardly up into the tree with her. It had absolutely no grace—in fact, if her heart wasn’t beating at an accelerated rate, she might have found the sight of his large frame lurching from branch to branch amusing—but he managed to reach the spot she’d left for him rather quickly.

She looked down. Both Akira and the group of students were nearly to the tree—

—And Naoto realized with horror that—if they stood against the trunk—they might still be able to see them well enough to identify one or both of them.

She tried to think. She had to hide both of them more effectively, if only in a manner that didn’t identify them in such an unmistakable way. There were enough rumors about—

Rumors. That they were….

An idea burst into existence in Naoto’s mind. And she hated it instantly. But, she was out of time. She quickly unbuttoned her coat and looked at Kanji.

“Do not panic,” she breathed at him.

“Wha—?” Kanji started.

She threw the coat up, covering both of their heads underneath it. From their proximity, even in the dark, she sensed how he’d completely frozen. Even his breathing halted for a split moment. Or, maybe a long moment. Time seemed to freeze.

She felt Yamato-Takeru buzzing in the back of her head, but her thoughts otherwise melted into a haze as dark and muddy as her sight under the coat.

Gradually, she could make out the outlines of Kanji’s face in the darkness, see the dim glint of his eyes. She brought her hands down—both of them tensing when they came to rest on his arm and leg.

His face seemed closer without any warning. Odd, as he seemed far too tense to move at all. But, there was no mistaking his breath—quick and shallow and _warm_ —on her nose. She was suddenly very much aware of the lack of ground beneath her feet.

She heard her Persona buzz again, something about a cliff, then its voice spoke, a single word.

She could feel his breath even closer to hers now, the warmth almost cool against her heated face. She _knew_ that he hadn’t moved, so—so that meant that _she’d_ leaned closer in, closer to him, close enough to—

_No!_ She felt logic break through her mind, sending a wave of cold down her back. She jerked herself backwards away from him. The branch heaved and groaned from the action.

No, it didn’t make sense! She didn’t—couldn’t—!

She tried to move herself away, to try to think, but she felt the slight vertigo as she started to tilt off of the branch.

Kanji felt it, too.

“Naoto!” He barked, reaching for her. He grabbed her arm just in time, pulling her against him to stop her from falling.

The branch however, had had enough, groaning once—loudly—under the momentum from their bodies’ movements, before a loud cracking ripped through their dark world.

A dark world that suddenly plummeted both of them down into the light of the surface.

Naoto yelped as the impact sent a jolt through her, the pain intensifying up her back. Her knees throbbed, but didn’t immediately seem broken—they would have hurt far worse, surely, or at least have made a sound themselves.

She looked up at Kanji, who was staring at her, face red. He then looked up, his face paling at something behind them. Naoto glanced behind her to see—

Naoki was standing just off of the path, arms crossed. His expression was almost amused. Almost. He gave a half-smile.

“So, I assume you’ve made up, then?” He asked.

Naoto felt the heat erupt down her face and neck to her collarbone, and pulled her coat back over her head again—and this time, solely her own head.


	17. Disconnect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra thanks to a kind anon some translation work for this chapter! (And to KrisRix for forwarding it along!)

Naoto kept her face blank as she followed the agent—dressed in a rather cliché black military-style suit and shades—down the stairs, Yosuke close behind her.

Following Akira after Sunday had proven next to impossible, not without drawing attention to herself in some manner or another. The woman was gone by the time Naoto came home from school, and was fast asleep when she woke up in the morning. By Wednesday, she was becoming desperate; her inability to find the man—Kasanoda, she recalled the name he’d given them—again led her to believe that Mitsuru had recaptured him. She’d also been unable to find any sort of witness or real evidence on the murdered woman. Mitsuru _had_ set up a video chat late on Sunday, informing Naoto and Yosuke about what info the autopsy had revealed at that point: the victim—who Kasanoda had identified as one of his employer’s agents—had been torn apart by some sort of animal, her face and head ripped apart along with the other obvious long claw marks along her body.

They’d gotten a look at the photos of the corpse during that call. Immediately after which, Yosuke had to make a dash for the bathroom. Not that Naoto could blame him; it probably should have concerned her that the sight of someone that was—savaged—like that didn’t evoke much of a reaction in her.

The woman had also had some sort of chip embedded deep in her brain—similar to the one Aigis’s scans had found in Akira’s—except it had been severely damaged.

Mitsuru had then heavily implied that she suspected the damage had been intentional, that the trauma to the woman’s face had been the result of the attacker wanting to get at the chip.

Which meant one of two things: either the animal that had clearly savaged her to death was sentient and capable of some level of rational thought, or it was under the control of another individual with some level of precision. Neither option brought any amount of comfort to any of them.

At that point, Yosuke had told the Team to avoid being outside alone, especially at night, until they caught whatever had killed the woman—preliminary DNA testing hadn’t been able to even identify the animal’s species.

“And, no one goes outside during the Dark Hour unless we’ve made plans to meet up,” Yosuke had added. “Mitsuru said that the coroner figured the time of death to have been during the Dark Hour. Which means that whatever killed her is awake during it. And, we already have that freaky Persona and it’s user to look out for.”

No one had argued. Naoto didn’t voice it, but she suspected that the woman may have actually been killed by a Shadow. It was unusual—victims of the Dark Hour were usually either afflicted with Apathy Syndrome or turned into a Shadow themselves—but then, there was the Aberrant Shadow to consider.

Which just raised more questions Naoto wasn’t sure she should address. Not yet.

In any case, when Mitsuru had contacted her and Yosuke shortly after school on that Wednesday, telling them to meet a Shadow Ops agent at a house near the edge of town, Naoto had found herself relieved on some level. Perhaps, now, they would finally be able to get some concrete answers that didn’t just complicate things further.

She didn’t know how Mitsuru had managed to purchase the house without anyone in town noticing—and, frankly, she didn’t care. If it gave the Operatives a central base to function out of, it would make trying to deal with the spiraling situation a little bit easier.

They would also be easier for Naoto to keep an eye on.

The agent stopped at the landing of the stairs, motioning towards the door at the far end of the basement’s hall.

“Kirijo-sama is waiting for you in the room at the end,” the agent said softly. He turned back towards the stairs. “Please do not leave without checking in with me again.” He went back upstairs before Naoto or Yosuke could respond.

Naoto exchanged a quick glance with Yosuke, before they both turned to the specified door again. Yosuke took a long, deep breath before walking over to it, Naoto following him through it.

The new room was nearly bare, the walls perpendicular to the entrance being entirely made of what appeared to be a single, metallic tile. The wall opposite the door held another door, made of the same metal as those walls, and a glass window permitting one to view the similarly bare room beyond it. Against one of the metal walls sat a table, various files scattered on top, and a single lamp hung from the ceiling, but the room was otherwise devoid of furniture.

Mitsuru stood behind the glass window, dressed in a black, feminine-cut suit—one very well-tailored to her frame—with a dark red shirt, staring into the room on the other side. Aigis stood on one side of the woman, her robotic form completely exposed and sporting a bright red necktie. On Mitsuru’s opposite side stood Fuuka, the shorter woman breaking the pattern of her companions by sporting a bright teal turtleneck and a long white skirt.

“Shirogane. Hanamura.” Mitsuru did not turn to look at them. “I’m glad you were able to make it. I think it’s time our… friend there gave us some answers, wouldn’t you agree?”

_Then, why wait three days to…?_ Naoto started. Guilt shot through her instantly.

_Because of me_ , she realized. _Mitsuru-san would have wanted to wait until I’d recovered, at least somewhat, from… from my injuries_. Logically, she knew it was unfair to blame herself. Emotionally, she still felt responsible—and she still didn’t exactly know how to handle most of her emotions.

“Has he said anything in the meantime?” Naoto asked, rolling her left shoulder as she walked towards the others. It was still a little stiff, but the healing spells seemed to have worked to help prevent any serious complications with the wound.

“Little of note.” Mitsuru brought one hand to her mouth. “I understand you are probably eager to interrogate him yourself, Shirogane.”

“It is an intrinsic element of my occupation, yes,” Naoto said.

Yosuke made a soft sound—almost a scoff.

“Is something wrong, Yosuke-senpai?” Naoto turned to look at the third-year.

“Huh?” Yosuke blinked at her. “Not really. Just thinking about how wordy you get. Poor Kanji must get so confused.”

“I am not certain I understand your implication,” Naoto said, tilting her head the tiniest amount. “Kanji-kun rarely demonstrates difficulty in understanding my vocabulary.” She paused. “You seem to have an unfair expectation of his intelligence.”

“What?” Yosuke looked at her.

“You have never demonstrated similar concern for Naoki-kun’s comprehension,” Naoto added.

“My, uh, concern for Naoki-kun isn’t with your vocabulary,” Yosuke mumbled.

A new wave of guilt—the exact cause, Naoto couldn’t name—ran down her back. A bitter taste formed in the back of her throat as she recalled Sunday. On one hand, it had been a relief that only Naoki had witnessed the… incident with the tree. Naoto had enough to handle at school without the addition of gossip over the young Shirogane being caught up a tree—and with a classmate, no less.

On the other hand, however, something in the back of her mind buzzed at the memory, as if she were missing a crucial social cue. The buzzing was almost the same—though not quite—as the one that she’d felt in Kanji’s presence over the past week or so. It didn’t make sense. They were all friends, but nothing had changed since their little trio had formed this summer.

Had it?

If it had, then—what about Kanji and Naoki was so similar? And, what was so different?

“Anyway,” Mitsuru brought them back to the topic at hand with a firm voice, “I have decided that it may be best if I interrogate him myself.”

Naoto’s lips twitched, a chill forming in her chest. That didn’t make sense; then, why did she have—?

“However,” Mitsuru cut the thought off, “I am not forgetting that your status as a detective, nor your skills as such. I presume your skills in interrogation include identifying various facial and physical tells?”

“I have some experience in such, yes,” Naoto said. “I cannot truly judge my own performance accurately, but I am generally capable of reading a suspect during interrogation.”

“Ironically,” Yosuke added under his breath.

Naoto looked at him. What did that mean?

“Then,” Mitsuru didn’t seem to hear him, “I will wear an earpiece while I question him. I will need you to communicate to me through it, and inform me of any and all tells you can identify. I suspect that, despite his claims, he will still lie or otherwise hold back. With your assistance, we may be able to coax all the answers we need out of him without overt coercion.”

“I suggested that I stand in the room with my gatling cannon prepared,” Aigis said. “Mitsuru-san declined the offer, stating that it would be counterproductive if Kasanoda-san fell unconscious out of fright.”

Naoto stared at her.

Was Aigis joking, or…?

“Regardless,” Mitsuru spoke up, “we cannot afford to waste time. Are you ready Shirogane?” The woman pushed a small object into her ear—the earpiece—and handed a small hand microphone to the young detective.

“Wait.” Naoto’s mind buzzed again, this time with inspiration. “When you go in, tell him that… that I am pleased to hear that he was not grievously injured in his motorcycle crash during Saturday’s Dark Hour.”

Mitsuru looked at her for a long moment, before nodding with a small smile.

“If we get him off-guard from the onset,” Naoto continued, “he may slip and provide us with information he otherwise would not choose to freely divulge.”

Mitsuru’s smile widened.

“Anything else?”

Naoto walked to the window, turning the knob next to it and looking through it. Kasanoda was sitting haphazardly on the floor, leaning back against the wall with an expression of disinterest. His long coat and knit cap were lying on the floor about half a meter in front of him, revealing his knit sweater and hair—dark, scruffy, roughly chin-length, and pulled back in a loose ponytail. His face was still mildly bruised in a couple places, and the corner of his mouth had a half-healed, still-red crack. He had a small amount of stubble along his jawline. His hands and what was visible of his arms were covered in numerous, thin red marks, as if he’d been sliced multiple times with a thin blade and the wounds had only just started to heal.

“Nothing currently,” Naoto said.

Mitsuru said nothing else before she opened the door and walking into the adjoined room.

Kasanoda looked at her briefly, before turning away slightly.

“Good afternoon,” Mitsuru started calmly.

“Is it?” Kasanoda asked flatly. “Can’t really tell what time it is in here. Ya know?”

“Shirogane told me to inform you that she is glad you were not severely injured in your wreck Saturday night.”

Kasanoda turned to look at her, his expression blank, for a long, silent moment. Then, he gave a chuckle.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t talking to each other.” He wiped his mouth with one hand. “Glad to be wrong.”

Naoto stared at him through the glass, focusing on the man’s eyebrows.

“He’s attempting to distract you,” Naoto said into the mic. “He _was_ unnerved to some degree.” She tried to ignore the slight, smug satisfaction at being right. “Try to discomfort him further; push on how he was able to survive so easily.”

“I heard that you were travelling at an excessive speed when it happened,” Mitsuru continued, almost as if she hadn’t heard. “I’m rather curious as to how you were generally unhurt. You should have at least broken bones, yet….”

“So, you’re more upset that I _ain’t_ a giant blood smear all over the street?” Kasanoda laughed again, dryly this time. “I’ve already explained to ya that I’m not exactly built like most people.”

“Explain it to me again. In full detail, this time.”

Kasanoda raised a brow at her.

“I highly doubt you want _full_ detail. What they did ta me… wasn’t pretty. To put it mildly. Pretty damn ugly, actually.” He sighed, picking up his cap and looking at it as he kneaded the cloth in his fingers. “But, to skip the gorier stuff, I was poked, prodded, injected with all sorts of terrible shit, and generally treated like a lab rat from the time I was little until sometime in my teens. Most people don’t believe in supernatural or parascience, but the things I went through… the mutations I suffered while my body slowly stabilized….” He shuddered. “Let’s just say that I went through a lotta surgeries to remove limbs and stuff my body kept wantin’ to grow.” He paused for a long moment.

“But, you’re stable now?” Mitsuru prompted.

“More or less,” Kasanoda said, looking away. “I even still look human. Mostly functional like one, too. A few things don’t, uh,” he shifted slightly, “work quite right, but I still have the required stuff working in some way or other. Digestive system has a few quirks, and I’ve already told you how important it is for me to eat regularly. But, so long as I avoid any… aggravators, and take care of myself, I don’ really have too much problem. Muscles are a little tougher than those a’ most folks. Bones are _extremely_ tougher.” He took a long breath. “…Boss liked that. Meant I never broke anything. Day I break an arm will prob’bly be the day I die.”

“That’s not a lot of info,” Mitsuru said.

He looked at her.

“A little kid ain’t exactly gonna remember overhearing what the docs—if they were even really doctors—were doin’ to him. All he knows is that they’re cutting and poking and prodding and something ain’t right.” Kasanoda looked away. “Didn’t have much choice though.” He exhaled through his nose. “When I was a teenager, the last thing they tried—once my body stopped tryin’ to grow extra limbs—was to… fuse me somehow, with this weird little thing. Looked like a tiny, thin, glowing shard of broken glass or something. Learned later that it was called a Plume.”

“A Plume of Dusk?” Mitsuru asked, at the same time that Naoto breathed those words to herself.

“Yep.” Kasanoda put his hat back on. He shuddered for a long moment. “That nearly killed me. And, made certain… situations incredibly… dangerous for me. And for everyone around me.” He looked at Mitsuru, anger clear in his eyes. “As you found out for yourself last night.”

“Where did your employer find the Plumes he used in his experiments?”

“Dunno,” Kasanoda said. “Don’t care.” He was still glaring. “You gonna tell me where your Group gets theirs?”

Mitsuru frowned.

“Tha’s what I thought.” Kasanoda looked away, his face sobering. “I didn’t get told a whole lotta detail. I learned how to eat the right stuff to stay alive, I learned to follow commands—and how to carry them out well, and I learned what meds to take and when. Anything else, I just kinda gleaned over the years.”

“What did the Plume do?”

“To me?” Kasanoda looked at her. His eyes narrowed. “I… told….” His face lit up. “You’re recording this, aren’t you?” He sighed when she didn’t respond or even react. “Fine. Do as you like.” He rubbed at his arms. “Don’t really know what it did, ta be honest. Gave me the weirdest fever for weeks. I heard this loud static in the back of my head. It drowned everythin’ out at first, until it gradually faded. Still hear it from time to time. Buzzing. Swore I heard someone talkin’ at first, but that was during the fever. I saw a lotta trippy shit during those weeks. Felt weird, too, even considering how my body’s tried to grow _extra limbs_ before. But, other than the fact that it nearly killed me, and that I still hear static from time to time, nothing much. Just pills the docs gave me. In case it flares up again.”

Naoto inhaled.

“Do not press that,” Naoto said into the microphone. “He does not seem to know, or realize, the significance of what they attempted.”

“You said you followed orders,” Mitsuru said, not giving any outward acknowledgement. “What type of orders, exactly?”

“Hey,” Yosuke spoke up as Kasanoda told Mitsuru about the different tasks—and murders—his employer made him carry out. “What was that about?”

“Shuji Ikutsuki implanted Sho Minazuki with a Plume of Dusk in an attempt to forcibly waken a Persona within him.” Naoto had learned about it during the incident back in May. “It is possible that Kasanoda-san’s employer attempted the same with him.”

“But, if he has a Persona,” Yosuke said, “why wouldn’t he have summoned it when we were fighting that Shadow?”

“It is likely that they were uncertain of how or were unable to have Kasanoda-san summon his Persona,” Aigis supplied.

“Furthermore, his recounting of the event suggests that he has no understanding of the internal effect of being a Persona-user,” Naoto added. “Otherwise, if he had simply wanted to hide his possession, then he would have at least omitted the sounds he heard—and claims to still hear—if not the whole procedure entirely.” As if on cue, she heard Yamato-Takeru buzzing in the back of her own mind. It had been doing so much more frequently the past several days; Naoto very pointedly forced herself to ignore that this increase had been directly preceded by a certain event on Sunday, involving a tree with rather traitorous branches.

“It is possible that the procedure was technically successful,” Aigis said, “but that they were never able to cause the initial summon. As a result, they may be having him take Persona Suppressors as part of his medical regimen. He might not have any idea of this.”

“He wouldn’t be the first person we knew who took Suppressors,” Fuuka spoke up in a quiet voice. “Regardless if he’s truly an ally or enemy.” She placed one hand on the glass of the window.

“Fuuka-san?” Aigis looked at her.

“He even looks like him,” Fuuka’s voice hitched slightly. “Just… just a little. Mostly his hair and clothes. And that look in his eyes. But, he does.”

Naoto racked her brain, trying to recall if there was anyone in the Shadow Operatives that took Suppressors. That would want to keep their own Persona at bay, under control.

Until she remembered a single name mentioned in the articles on the drugs in question: a single member of S.E.E.S. during their high school days.

Naoto looked at Kasanoda through the glass. The man was enthusiastically rubbing his arms.

_He can’t regulate his own body temperature anymore._

Mitsuru’s actions, inactions, and general behavior regarding Kasanoda now made a great deal of more sense to the young detective, particularly her previous silence regarding him.

She looked at his eyes. There were shadows underneath them, and he seemed… tired wasn’t really the right way to describe the look he gave Mitsuru or the walls, floor, or ceiling.

“…Satisfied?” Kasanoda finished his current story. “Or, would you like me to drag up _more_ people’s skeletons? I don’t understand how this is helping you, at all.”

“It is.”

“Right.” Kasanoda looked away. “Just like last night.”

“That’s an excellent change of topic, actually,” Mitsuru said. “How about you explain what happened last night?”

Kasanoda glared at her again.

“What happened last night?” Yosuke asked Aigis.

“Mitsuru-san refused to permit Kasanoda-san access to his medication before the Dark Hour.” Aigis rotated one of her arms by the shoulder. “Shortly after the Hour started, his body mutated. First, his skin split open in numerous places—his arms still bear those wounds—and then his blood turned black and….” Aigis hesitated.

“It was terrible,” Fuuka whispered.

“It was similar to when a Shadow has not yet fully formed,” Aigis continued. “His body turned into a congealed semi-solid, black and dark purple in color. He also turned completely aggressive, assaulting or attempting to assault anyone that entered the room and attacking the walls when left alone.”

“Did he say anything?” Naoto asked.

“He repeated numerous times that he tried to warn us, tried to save someone, and that…” Aigis hesitated again, “and that the end was coming.”

“I told you,” Kasanoda snapped at Mitsuru in the interrogation room, “that the Dark Hour made my body freak out, that those meds was the only thing that kept me stable. I told you that I was a monster without them. You did not believe me.”

“Actually,” Mitsuru said softly, “I did. I simply needed proof and… to know what precisely you meant by that.”

Naoto felt a realization break over her head like a vase.

“Aigis-san, do you happen to have any surveillance footage or photos of Kasanoda-san’s… state last night?”

“…I believe so,” Aigis said. “I shall speak to Mitsuru-san about sharing it with you.”

“Thank you.” Naoto silently noted the hesitation. Perhaps it was a theory she was best off not sharing.

But, that description sounded familiar—and the way Yosuke had said Kasanoda had acted during the fight with the Shadow supported the idea that—

—That the Aberrant Shadow might have more in common with him than with most other Shadows. Save, perhaps for their own Shadow selves.

“What?” Kasanoda started. “Do you think you know how to stop it? That I can be saved from myself at this point? Or,” he narrowed his eyes, “do you plan to use me to fight my coworker?”

Mitsuru didn’t speak at first.

“I have no right to question the ethics of forcing me like that, not after everything I’ve done.” Kasanoda took a long breath. “But, you’ve already seen that I have no real control over myself when… I’m like that. I could hurt one of you, and you really don’t need any more threats to fight right now.”

“Change the subject,” Naoto said into the mic. _This requires further, external investigations…._

“Who is your… co-worker?” Mitsuru asked. “The Persona-user we encountered the other night? And are you completely certain that the woman who was murdered is the other—?”

“Yes,” Kasanoda said quickly. “You found the chip in her head, yeah?”

Mitsuru didn’t respond.

“A lot of us have them. They let us understand this signal our boss uses to communicate. That way no one can eavesdrop or somethin’ on his orders and such. Apparently, a lot a’ the others’ have a control feature, which basically makes them slave to his will.” He paused. “It’s too bad it was damaged like that; I’d have liked a chance ta get a good look. Never got one, even of mine.”

“Ask him what languages his chip lets him speak,” Naoto said into the mic.

“You said you have a chip, yourself?”

“Yeah,” Kasanoda tossed his head, as if he could demonstrate it that way.

“And it allows you to understand any language?”

“What?” Kasanoda blinked at her. “Nah, man. Just those signals. I speak a little English and Russian, and can read a few others, but otherwise, the only real language I know is Japanese.”

“Alors, tu n'as vraiment aucune idée qu'est ce que je dis maintenant?” Mitsuru suddenly switched to French. “Ta puce ne traduit pas un seul mot? Tu n'as pas la moindre idée que je suis en train de te dire qu'on met de l'eau de javel dans ta nourriture?”

“I… what?” Kasanoda blinked at her. “I don’t even know what…. Was that… French? I-I don’t…. Is this a prank?” He looked at the window. “Did the android put you up to that?” He twitched several times. “Damn robot’s got a twisted sense of humor,” he muttered to himself.

“No,” Mitsuru said.

“But it is useful to know that languages he cannot understand result in him being at a loss,” Aigis noted out loud.

_So,_ Naoto thought to herself, _if it’s not the chip, then what permits Akira-san to understand and speak Japanese?_

“I really hope you didn’t insult my mother,” Kasanoda muttered. “I’ll take a lot, but.” He sighed. “But, yeah. Just a single signal-translator in my chip. No control, either. It was an early model, and Boss didn’t want all their work on me to go to waste by risking me dyin’ with a prototype. ‘Sides,” he smiled to himself, “he doesn’ really need a chip to control me.”

“So, how do we know that we can trust you, if you’re so obedient?”

“Because you’ve provided me with the opportunity and resources I need to finally do something about him.” Kasanoda paused. “I may be a monster, but he is…. I have to do something.” He exhaled slowly. “As for… the woman: I never knew her name, but she was always… trouble. Boss would usually send me with her on missions, in case she bungled things.” He sighed. “I don’t think I can fix her mess this time, though. I don’ think I could’ve even saved her life; she screwed herself the moment she set off the Dark Hour without orders.”

“About that,” Mitsuru crossed her arms, “you said that she had a machine that caused the Dark Hour to operate. Do you know where it is, or how to disable it?”

Kasanoda shook his head.

“No,” he said. “All I know is that it’s clearly an automatic model, as I mentioned before; not only does it start the Dark Hour precisely at midnight every night, it operates even without her input. So, unless the man was working with her and is continuing to operate it in her stead—or was the one running it all along—it’s a reasonable conclusion.” He paused.

_Just how many times did they meet before we knew about him?_ Naoto felt cold. _And, exactly what did they discuss? And to what level of detail?_

“Which would mean,” Kasanoda continued, “that it’s probably hidden someplace near a source of Shadow energy. Inaba was a focal point for Shadow activity in the past. That much, I _do_ know. But, without details, I couldn’t even begin to guess where it’s hidden.”

Naoto stared at his face through the glass. She scanned every part of his expression—tired and defeated, every bit of his earlier anger gone. His body was far more relaxed than it was before, despite his loose grip on his own arms.

“He’s telling the truth,” Naoto said into the mic. “Or, he believes he is. Tell him about the televisions.”

“Whoa!” Yosuke exclaimed. “Are you sure?”

“Emphasize that only Persona users can utilize them to enter that world,” Naoto finished relaying her command, before turning to the third-year. “Absolutely. This is an excellent way to call that bluff, potentially get more information, and test to see if Kasanoda-san _is_ a Persona user or not. Rather, if he’s _knowingly_ a Persona user.”

Yosuke made a nervous sound.

“I really don’t like this guy,” he said softly. “Just… be careful what you tell him… or let Mitsuru-san tell him.”

Naoto looked at him.

_Does he no longer trust my judgement?_ That didn’t make sense.

“All right,” she said, anyway.

Aigis looked at them, but said nothing before she looked back at the window.

“Inaba Persona users can access another world via portals their Personas allow them to create using televisions in the area,” Mitsuru told Kasanoda after a long moment. “This world is believed to be a homeworld of sorts for Shadows. Persona users can force non-Persona users to enter with them, where they will often spawn a highly intelligent Shadow version of themselves, which then attempts to kill their host.”

“Through a television?” Kasanoda echoed, tilting his head. “What do you mean? They… walk through the screen?”

“Yes,” Mitsuru said flatly.

Kasanoda blinked at her for a long moment.

“That is the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Says the man who has grown extra limbs multiple times,” Mitsuru shot back.

“Good point. Still sounds weird.” He looked at the floor.

“Change the subject again,” Naoto said through the mic. “Be certain to keep an eye on him at all times. And allow him a chance to interact with a television soon, when he thinks he’s alone with it.”

“What about the Persona we encountered the other night?” Mitsuru asked Kasanoda, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

“Baal,” Kasanoda looked up at the window. Yosuke flinched; Naoto presumed that it likely appeared that the man was looking directly at the third-year.

“Pardon?” Mitsuru raised an eyebrow at him.

“The Persona. Its name is Baal. Its owner doesn’t have a name. Kinda like me, the man was raised by… by my employer’s group. I jus’ know him as Agent Kazan.”

“After the—?” Mitsuru started.

“Yes. They assigned him that after his Persona… manifested. Scientists said he was under the Emperor Arcana. Not that I could know.”

“We can have Rise check next time we run into him,” Yosuke said quietly.

“Fuuka-san is also capable of scanning to confirm his Arcana,” Aigis pointed out, as the woman in question nodded once. “However, it is of little consequence.”

“It might be of help to know precisely how much these scientists truly understand of what they’re meddling with,” Naoto said.

 “Don’ really know why they chose that emperor, though,” Kasanoda continued. “Not that I can really compare it to _experimenting on children_ to the point of _mutation_ , but still.” He paused, looking at the floor.

“What does he want?” Mitsuru asked.

“The Abnormal—or Aberrant, or whatever ya like—Shadow’s capture. A few other things, I’m sure, but that’s the one I’m aware of.” He coughed. “The one I’m, uh, supposed ta be keeping an eye on him for.”

“You said he could level Inaba with his Persona.”

Kasanoda hesitated, before slowly staggering to his feet.

“Yes. I… was at the test they did, on an island somewhere in the Indian Ocean. It used ta have a small ecosystem there, some trees and a few types of animals and all that. It… doesn’t anymore.” He looked at Mitsuru. “So, yes, he could theoretically level Inaba. But, it’s not something he’s going to do unless he has literally no other choice. Or is ordered to, directly by the boss. And he _definitely_ doesn’t want to resort to that type of thing unless he has to.”

“How do we… neutralize him?”

“Toss him in a TV,” he said dryly.

“Oh, great,” Yosuke sighed. “A comedian.”

“Any method that doesn’t resort to murder?” Mitsuru frowned.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “Those kids already showed that they’re capable of breaking his Persona. Do that, and he’s just a weak, little man. That one tall kid, Shirogane-san’s friend? Or whatever? He could probably hold him down with his foot.”

Yosuke chuckled.

“What is funny?” Naoto looked at him.

“You still don’t get it,” The third-year said with a shrug.

Naoto looked at the others. Fuuka was blinking at Yosuke with mild confusion, while Aigis smiled and nodded once.

“I comprehend,” there seemed to be a hint of a laugh in the android’s voice.

Naoto didn’t understand. Was he laughing at the mental image of Kanji holding someone down with his foot? Perhaps Yosuke might find some level of amusement from that, but Aigis?

Yamato-Takeru buzzed in her head, loudly but incoherently.

Maybe this was another social cue she didn’t understand.

“Breaking his Persona may not be easy the next time,” Kasanoda continued. “He’ll be expecting far more resistance than he was before. Especially since the one girl’s Persona has both support and attack forms. She will not catch him off guard again. In fact,” his eyes widened, “you should probably keep an eye on her. He might want to lie low and stay hidden, but the idea of… eliminating her might be too tempting for him.”

“We should make certain that Rise-san does not go anywhere alone until this Persona user is… handled.” Naoto turned to Yosuke. He nodded at her.

“I’ll ask Kanji to make sure he walks to and from school with her.” He sighed. “This is going to be hell for them with the others at school, but if it keeps Rise alive….”

“We can also have an agent watch her whenever she’s not at home or school,” Aigis offered. “Discreetly, of course.”

“Rise-san is not going to be happy about it,” Naoto said with a light sigh.

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to make it up to her.” Yosuke crossed his arms. “It’s more important that she stay safe.” He exhaled slowly. “We’d be screwed without her. We need her at One-hundred percent if we’re going to beat this guy.”

Naoto’s stomach churned. Something about what he’d said was… incredibly unnerving, though she couldn’t quite name what. Or why.

“What is the Aberrant Shadow?” Mitsuru continued her questioning.

“The Abnormal is simply that,” Kasanoda looked at the wall. “It is an abnormal Shadow. Man-made, of course.”

“Technically,” Naoto muttered to herself, “all Shadows are formed by humans. They are typically born of human emotions.” She brought the mic to her mouth. “Press that. He’s trying to hide his reaction. He knows more.”

“What do you mean, man-made?” Mitsuru asked, walking closer to him.

He turned to face her, stepping back away again. He hesitated.

“Did you really think that the woman that Shirogane-san is hiding in her apartment was the only thing that’s ever escaped from my… employers?”

Naoto narrowed her eyes.

“Why Inaba? Why would so many things be drawn here?” Mitsuru asked.

“Dunno fer sure,” Kasanoda shrugged. “All I know is that Inaba is an epicenter for Shadow activity on our dimension.” He smiled. “Maybe they’re tryin’ ta get back home through a TV.”

“He’s far too comfortable,” Naoto said into the mic. “We need to throw him off.” Her mind paced quickly, trying to remember what little information she’d gathered on Sunday. She didn’t want to play too strong a card too soon, but….

“I hear you spend a lot of time at the local Chinese diner. Seems you were not lying about needing to eat frequently.”

“I’m considering getting the beef bowl special the next time it rains,” he said dryly, after a long moment. “Assuming you ever let me out of this room again.”

Something clicked in Naoto’s head.

“He typically orders a large noodle bowl and eats it with plum sauce,” she told Mitsuru through the mic.

“Really?” Yosuke breathed. “That’s disgusting.”

_Oddly hypocritical for someone who apparently slathers half his food in either mustard or wasabi_ , Naoto recalled the skiing trip. It had seemed particularly odd at the time, until she’d recalled how Yu had once complained that Yosuke hated fish to the point that he wouldn’t even go fishing with their leader at the Samegawa.

“I don’t think they usually serve that with plum sauce, though,” Mitsuru said, smirking at him.

Kasanoda turned his head sharply to blink at her for a long moment. Then, his face relaxed into a smile. He walked over to the window. He gazed through it—

—And, apparently, right at Naoto.

“Hello, Detective Shirogane,” he said in a calm, level voice. “I apologize; I wasn’t told you were directing this interrogation. I am deeply sorry if I crossed a line with you earlier.”

Naoto narrowed her eyes in slight confusion.

_How did he figure…_? It didn’t make sense. How did that tidbit give her away? _And what is he referring to? What line?_

Yosuke stepped backwards, away from the window.

“I really don’t like this guy.” He shuddered once. “He was just like this during that fight. All weird and calm. And, he seems to know way too much.”

_Yes. Perhaps more than he is truly willing to share._ She exhaled softly. _This may require a more subtle approach_.

“What do you mean?” Mitsuru feigned innocence. “Are you suggesting that the Shadow Operatives are taking orders from an outsider?”

Despite the logical part of her mind telling her that it was just an attempt to recover this situation, the words still caused needles to poke at Naoto’s stomach.

_Outsider?_

“Ask him what they did to Akira-san,” Naoto said into the mic, refusing appear or sound anything but totally calm. “And ask for as much detail as you can.”

“These experiments they did on the woman we’re currently protecting,” Mitsuru complied. “What precisely did they do, what drugs and so forth were used? Did they use a Plume on her? What should we expect?”

“I am not eating anytime soon, am I?” He looked at her with a long sigh.

Mitsuru gave her own sigh, before lightly tapping once on the glass.

“Yamagishi, would you be so kind as to bring our… guest some of the local steak skewers? We can’t have him passing out on us.”

“I appreciate that.” Kasanoda smiled. He looked at the window. “Thank you, Yamagishi-san.” He bowed his head briefly.

_Odd,_ Naoto noted the behavior.

Yosuke pulled out his cell phone.

“What’s wrong?” Naoto asked.

“We’re gonna be here a while,” Yosuke said, focusing on the screen and punching something in. “Gotta make sure Ted’s okay with getting to his shift tonight. And… uh.” He hesitated. “Gotta make sure I don’t get in any more trouble than I am already.”

Naoto looked at him. What—?

_Oh_ , she realized. _Of course._

“I…” Fuuka said, before softly clearing her throat. “I’ll be back, then.” She left through the door Naoto and Yosuke had entered through.

Aigis rotated her arm by the shoulder socket, now that there was no risk of hitting Fuuka while doing so.

Kasanoda walked back to the far wall of his room. He leaned back against it, closing his eyes.

“Well, I guess I should start with something kinda important to consider,” he said softly. He took a long breath, before opening his eyes again. “They did a lot a’ terrible things to her. Many of them, the same that they did ta me.” He inhaled again.

“What are you getting at?” Mitsuru asked.

“We’re not….” Kasanoda started, before exhaling through his gritted teeth. “Like you’ll really believe me.”

“If I were going to not believe you,” Mitsuru said, “it was more likely to have happened back when you discussed growing extra limbs multiple times.”

Kasanoda shuddered visibly.

“Good point,” he conceded. “I suppose this makes sense, at that point.” He looked away.

_Something he has in common with Akira-san?_ Naoto’s mind started racing. She remembered the argument Aika had told them about. The one he’d apparently had with Akira, where she’d accused him of lying.

And that Akira had not once mentioned running into someone that clearly knew her—or, at least _of_ her.

“You see…” he said quietly. “Neither of us are exactly human anymore.”

 

…

…

 

Kanji rubbed at his shoulders. There was a little bit of warmth today, enough to allow him to wear a shorter-sleeved T-shirt without a jacket after school. And to go to the Shiroku and get one last batch of Topsicles for the season.

He normally got lemon-flavor—they were cheap, and he could buy them in two-packs—but today the blue soda ones caught his eye. The color had inspired an unintended flashback. And that was that, he’d bought two before he could string together a coherent thought, avoiding Old Lady Shiroku’s gaze with a burning face as she rung up his purchase.

He stood outside, leaning slightly against the store corner, eating the Topsicles and generally avoiding going home. Going home meant studying and homework tonight. Which really meant staring at his textbooks and pretending he wasn’t waiting for text messages that would probably not come in.

Or, maybe they would. And that was even _more_ terrifying.

So, no. He wanted to just avoid it all for as long as he could.

_I’m allowed ta be a coward every once in a while, right?_

He considered texting Naoki, asking if he wanted to work on homework together. But, when he found out that Naoto wouldn’t be joining them, he was likely to just bring up Sunday. And ask questions.

He’d been giving the both of them weird looks since—since something Kanji was trying desperately to pretend didn’t happen, to forget about it because if he didn’t, that meant _thinking_ about it, which meant _thinking about what it meant_ because _he_ sure as hell hadn’t been the one who moved during that whole—thing. And.

Even _thinking_ about thinking about it made his heart pound harder than anything before.

He was _not_ going to read into this. He was _not_ going to try to figure out what it meant. Because it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.

This was Naoto. She was not an… emotional person.

She had emotions. Clearly. He understood this. In fact, out of the Team, he might be the one who understood this about her the best. Probably because he _got_ , even on a vague, base level, where a lot of those emotions came from.

But, the idea of… of _Sunday_ actually _meaning something_ wasn’t just terrifying for his own sake.

It was terrifying for Naoto’s, too.

For the first time, he wondered if maybe… meaning _nothing_ would be better for the both of them.

Except, even if it didn’t _mean something_ , that didn’t mean it automatically meant _nothing_. Right?

Kanji bit into the last chunk of the second Topsicle, before hesitating.

Maybe he should actually just study—

—Something grabbed his shoulder firmly and started brushing—rough and wet—against his ear.

He leapt sideways, nearly throwing the Topsicle stick as he shouted, booming various incoherent syllables. The presence released him.

When he recovered, he looked at the sidewalk to see what had jumped him.

About half a meter away, a shorthair blue-grey kitten with piercing blue eyes was looking—more like glaring, really—right back up at him.

The same kitten from the other day, he realized.

It meowed once, a loud, long meow, before lashing its tail back and forth.

“Hello,” he humored it. “S’up?”

It took a couple of steps towards him, before meowing again.

Kanji tossed his Topsicle stick in the nearby trashcan, before taking a small step towards the kitten and kneeling to bring his face closer.

“Whadaya want?” He asked it, as if he expected a spoken response.

The kitten puffed itself up for a moment, before its stance calmed down again. It made a soft huffing sound, then meowed repeatedly while staring Kanji right in the eye.

_Well, it’s not bein’ affectionate, so it probably wants food. I fed it the last time, so now it thinks I’ll jus’ feed it again whenever._

Not that Kanji could really deny it that.

“Stay here,” he grumbled, standing up slowly. He waited for the kitten to react, but the small furry animal simply stood where it was and stared up at him expectantly.

It reminded him of the look he often got when he talked to—

He forced himself to make a sharp pivot and walk back into the store.

“Ah, Kanji-kun!” Old Lady Shiroku greeted cheerfully. “Did you forget something, dear?”

“Uh… more like… som’thin’s come up,” he half-mumbled.

He walked into the small convenience store’s pet supply section. They only had a couple brands of cat food. Only one—a small, single meal can of wet food—was labelled “kitten.” Kanji picked it up.

_I’m gonna regret this, ain’t I?_

If he had any relief in the current situation, it was that at least Shiroku-san didn’t say anything about his purchase—if his mother found out….

“Would you be kind enough to pass a message to your mother, child?” She seemed to sense the topic of his thoughts, however.

“Huh?” Kanji handed over the couple hundred yen for the cat food. “Uh… sure.”

“Tell her that I’m sorry I haven’t been in more contact with her lately.”

Kanji blinked at her. That was it? What—?

No, too many mysteries right now. Whatever his mother was or wasn’t up to was gonna have to wait.

He grumbled a response, before gratefully taking the can and leaving.

The kitten didn’t materialize immediately upon him stepping out of the store. Kanji wondered, briefly, if it had gotten bored or thought that he wasn’t going to feed it, after all.

Then, he felt something grab his shoulder again.

The kitten gave a demanding meow in his ear from its new perch.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kanji grumbled at it. “I got yer food, ya little beggar.” He held the can up to it, as if to let the kitten inspect it. “See?”

The kitten sniffed it once, before biting at the side of the can.

Kanji pulled it away.

“Hold on,” he told the small cat. “I gotta open it first.” The kitten leapt off of his shoulder onto the sidewalk again. Kanji walked over to the side of the store, out of the way of anyone who might walk down past it. He knelt down, opening the can.

He’d rather move someplace safer, but he didn’t want the kitten to grow more impatient. Or, worse, to figure out where he lived. He couldn’t really take it in; cat hair would be bad for the stock, not to mention his mother might worry about things _smelling_ like cats.

While he couldn’t bear to refuse to feed the kitten—especially since the last time it wouldn’t let him touch it, but now was suddenly cool with leaping up onto him multiple times—he didn’t think he could _really_ take care of it.

He set the can down on the ground. The kitten padded over in front of it, sniffing at the offering for a moment.

“Awfully picky, ain’t ya?” Kanji teased it.

The kitten made a sort of weird meow he’d never heard before—almost like a growl, really—before it took a tentative bite. Apparently satisfied with this offering, it then went to town on the can of food, scarfing it down as fast as it could.

“Slow down,” he told it. “Ya don’ wanna choke or make yerself sick.”

The kitten made a muffled half-purr, half-meow sound around another large bite of food.

Kanji hesitated, before reaching out and placing his hand on the kitten’s head.

The kitten stiffened, its ears flattening and a low rumble vibrating through its small frame.

“Okay,” Kanji said, taking his hand off of it. “Sorry.”

The cat swallowed, meowed once, then returned to eating, all without looking at him.

_Am I just a place ta get food ta you_? Kanji smiled, regardless.

The kitten finished its meal, sniffing lazily at the can. It looked up at Kanji.

“Better?” Kanji asked it. He held out his hand, the back of it facing the small animal.

The kitten sniffed at it, before gently taking one finger in its mouth. It didn’t bite down, only holding it for a moment. Then, it released him, and scurried off through the nearby shrubbery and out of sight.

“Yeah,” Kanji sighed. “You’re welcome.” _Should’a expected that, I guess._

Then, the kitten suddenly emerged again, leaping up onto the low, stone brick wall that surrounded the tofu shop. It meowed once at him.

Kanji smiled at it.

_Okay,_ he thought to himself, _I can live with that._

He walked back home, tossing the can out in the trashcan first, feeling a little less scared than he had been for the past few days.

Completely unaware as the kitten watched his every step, right to the textile shop’s front door.

 

…

…

 

Akira locked the bathroom door behind her. This was not the way she wanted to spend her break, but.

But, this was terrifying.

First, her digestive system was completely messed up lately—she was always hungry, but the food she ate seemed to just vanish into a black hole. Then her muscles started aching randomly during work—almost suddenly and generally all at once, as if someone had flipped a switch.

Then, the buzzing started in the back of her head. Off and on, at first, but now it generally lasted all night, with a little bit of a reprieve for most of the day—and while she slept.

And now, there was this.

She opened her mouth, tapping at her teeth with one hand while she inspected them in the mirror. Her canines were larger and far more pronounced than before. She’d noticed it some point after her shift between Saturday and Sunday.

And tonight, her skin itched. Everywhere.

Something was going on. Probably tied to whatever her old captors had done to her.

She should probably say something to Naoto. The young detective had already been kind enough to let her sleep and generally live at her own apartment, even if she’d generally been more of a prisoner at first. And, she’d brought in a group of people who seemed genuinely interested in helping her out, rather than just turning her over to the police, the latter of which could have easily been infiltrated by her old captors.

But….

But, there was something stopping her. An emotion she couldn’t quite name. Not shame or a fear she was familiar with but….

She couldn’t shake the feeling that, if she told Naoto what was going on, she’d just end up in another cage again.

Or worse.

Then, there was that man from the other day. She felt like she knew him, but her memory was too fuzzy. So, when she saw him on Sunday, she’d decided to tail him, see if anything triggered a recollection. But nothing happened. She just got angrier and angrier as she followed him. Eventually, she had to go, to prepare for her shift that night, and he’d run past her ability to follow anyway.

Well, at least her eyes weren’t changing colors anymore. She would have only been able to hide that for so long. In fact, she’d almost gotten caught anyway.

…Why _had_ Naoto been up so early?

And, why had Kanji been there?

There was an obvious answer, but—that didn’t seem to fit Naoto’s words and actions involving her friend. Unless that was part of the point?

Akira got the feeling that the people around her were keeping secrets again.

The last time she felt like that, she’d been Mutt, just before she’d been attacked and kidnapped, with one of her only two friends being killed in front of her.

She pushed her shades back up to her face.

She needed air.

She snuck through the back hall to the alley behind the Shiroku. The waxing moon shone above the dark corners of the buildings around her. She leaned back against the store’s wall, sliding down against it into a sort of kneel.

She pulled up her jacket sleeve. As much as she hated the feel of the cooling night air on her bare skin, she’d grown rather fond of the watch she’d bought with one of her first paychecks. It was analog—she’d never quite trusted digital, and she liked watching the hands slowly move around the face—and black with bright purple numbers and such.

Eleven fifty-nine and thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two seconds.

She exhaled slowly.

Everything was going to be fine. Even if she had to run again. She was _not_ going to end up back in a cage or on a table. She was going to stay free. No matter what she had to do to keep it that way.

The buzzing in her head increased.

The watch struck midnight.

 

…

…

 

Naoki couldn’t sleep.

Not that it was much of a surprise to him. He’d worked out by now that there was _something_ happening every night, at midnight. It’d happened too many times in a row—and apparently every night since the first—for it to just be his imagination.

When he’d gotten over the general creepiness of this weird, nightly event—such as how apparently most people—everyone else, really, as far as he could tell—just vanished and how everything became a little twisted in appearance and bloody and coffin-like objects appeared everywhere, like a bad horror flick—he’d slowly figured out that it seemed to exist outside of the normal flow of time. Before it started, every clock was about to strike midnight. And, when it ended, it was always twelve-even and a single second.

A whole hour, hidden away within a second.

It was far too fantastic to be real, yet.

Yet he’d experienced it too many times to write it off now.

He’d also worked out that, if he managed to sleep during this new hour, he woke up far more rested than he normally felt. Even more than just getting a solid extra hour of sleep would. But, if he tried to utilize the extra hour of time to get some more homework done—a difficult task, seeing as nothing electronic seemed to work—he’d just end up feeling completely exhausted the next day, no matter how much sleep he ended up getting.

He considered telling Naoto or Kanji about it, but….

But, he wasn’t wholly certain they’d believe him. There was a lot of crazy stuff that he had a feeling they’d accept, but this? This was a whole new level of messed up.

Naoto in particular was a very logical person, to the point of occasionally being a bit too literal. She’d probably tell him that he needed to sleep better. Perhaps suggest he get a new mattress or to eat fewer snacks before bed. 

Not to mention, they seemed to be keeping something from him. That unnerved him, and he wasn’t sure if they’d even really listen to him right now. Neither of them seemed really attentive the past few days: Kanji had been tense and clearly wound nearly to the point of snapping, while Naoto almost seemed like she was going to pass out.

If they were… well. That was their own business, even if it involved being in a tree together. In public, no less—which was probably the most unusual thing—for Naoto, anyway—she’d done lately.

Still hurt that they weren’t telling him, if they _were_ , well….

He frowned, pulling his blanket closer against him. The heat wasn’t working, of course, so while it wasn’t getting any colder during this weird, extra hour, it still wasn’t getting any warmer. He stood up, keeping the blanket around his shoulders.

He walked over to the window.

Naoki wished he wasn’t alone during this weird hour. It might be a bit less… oppressive if he had someone—or even just _something_ —to share it with.

He’d hardly finished the thought when he saw something walking down the street. A large, quadrupedal beast of some sort—a monster, really—nearly the size of a delivery truck. He couldn’t make out a lot of detail, between his angle and the poor lighting coming from the moon. One would think that green light would illuminate better, but….

It stopped near the entrance to the shrine, sniffing at the torii. It lashed its tail before it started to pace back and forth near the red archway.

“Never mind,” Naoki breathed, eyes wide. “I’d like to be alone again, please.”

A beam of light erupted from the textile shop. Naoki stared at it.

The dark beast saw it, too, running towards the building the moment the light faded. It snarled and barked at the building, scratching at the ground with its front claws.

Naoki half-expected something to burst out of the Tatsumi residence, but nothing else happened.

_Damn it, Kanji,_ he bit his lip, _you better be okay._

He made a mental note to try to get through to him in the morning.

Eventually, the monster seemed to grow bored, and ran off, continuing through the District to the North.

Naoki wrapped the blanket closer around himself.

He needed to sleep. Tomorrow was going to suck as it was. There was nothing he could do about… whatever had happened. So long as the monster didn’t decide to break into his family’s home—literally—then….

It wasn’t exactly as if he could fight it.

After a long moment, he saw a new figure walk down the street from the South. Someone shorter than the average adult, as far as he could tell, but they wearing a hoodie, so he couldn’t really make out any other detail other than their small frame.

At first, he thought of Naoto, but that didn’t make sense. She didn’t wear hoodies, especially in public.

Then again, it wasn’t exactly like there was an audience right now.

The figure—whoever they might be—stood in front of Tatsumi Textiles for a few, long minutes. Then, they turned around and walked back the way they came. When Naoki could no longer see them, he walked back to his futon, curling up on it.

He needed to sleep, before something happened that freaked him out more. He pulled out his cell phone, staring at the blank screen for a long moment before he put it down again.

He would talk to Kanji _and_ Naoto. In the morning.


	18. Idling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for my extended hiatus; health issues took time away from writing. I am recovered enough to begin again now.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my best friend, who goes by vgfeather, for helping me through some of the roughest patches of my life, and helping me to write again.~ <3 <3

Naoto twirled her gun once.

            She never did it to show off, despite the comments Yosuke’d made shortly after she’d joined the Team. It had simply been something that she’d taught herself to do—first using fake toys, then using her actual pistol while unloaded with the safety on. She would sometimes subconsciously twirl things in her hand—her grandfather had noted it to her more than once—so it was important that she ingrained the muscle memory as well. Shooting herself on accident was—not advised, to say the least.

            She exhaled, before focusing on the soft buzzing in the back of her skull.

            She liked this area of the Midnight Channel, where the entrance and exit via her drawing room was located. It was at the base of a mountain, the exit TVs sheltered under a dark wood gazebo. There was no lake or sea visible from its vantage point, but a river ran through nearby and the meadow at the mountain’s base was filled with various plant life—including a series of gentle purple and pale blue flowers clustered together—that swayed gently in the breeze. Unlike the region of the Channel that the Junes entrance led to, this area seemed to be eternally held in the dark purple hues of the hour of dusk.

            It really was quite lovely. One could easily forget that this world was also the home to Shadows, and that the entire dimension was once twisted and covered in fog.  Naoto half-wished she could show someone this—besides Teddie, she was the only person who knew this area of the Channel existed, that it held this sort of beauty—but she knew that every member of the Team would be more likely to lecture her about even having an entrance without telling everyone, especially considering her current use.

            The buzzing in her head softened. Naoto raised one hand.

            “Persona.”

            A circle of blue light emerged from the ground around her, forming the familiar pattern held on the back of every Team member’s tarot card. Her own card materialized a little under two meters away, spinning slowly.

            _The Wheel of Fortune_.

            Naoto raised her pistol.

            _Yamato-Takeru._

            She fired a single bullet, hitting the card perfectly in the middle, shattering it. The shower of sparks that burst from the impact faded as the primarily white, helmet-clad Persona materialized.

            Naoto felt the light pull at the back of her skull. It was best to not evoke her Persona for no reason.

            “Vorpal Blade!” She shouted the first attack that came to mind.

            Yamato-Takeru drew its sword, before flying forward a few meters and slicing at the tall grasses in front of it. Segments of vegetation flew to the side from the force of the blow.

            A slight pang of guilt struck Naoto’s stomach. Perhaps it was wrong to damage the plant life here in such a manner.

            She walked over to the severed remains of the various grasses and flowers. She picked up a stalk that ended in three of the purple ones. She frowned.

            It _was_ wrong, for many reasons.

            She felt her Persona fade, her lack of focus making her unable to keep it evoked.

            The stillness of the air weighed upon her frame. The plant slipped from her fingers.

            She opened her jacket and holstered her gun.

            Naoto took a deep breath. She looked up at the sky.

            Clouds were beginning to build in the distance.

            Naoto pulled down on her hat’s brim, before she turned and headed back towards the gazebo. She stopped in front of the small stack of old-fashioned TVs. She tapped the top of her holstered weapon.

            Naoto looked back at the field for a long moment, before turning and slipping through the center TV.

 

…

…

 

Kanji pulled a stack of papers out from his desk, carrying them over to the low table and sitting at it. He placed it down, next to the small number of blue graphite pencils.

            The top page showed only the outline of a vaguely female human form. He tapped the tip of the pencil near the shape of the head. He breathed slowly for several long moments.

            Perhaps a double-breasted design?

            He started to sketch over the outline, slowly taking the general shape of a coat.

            After a couple minutes, he stopped and looked at it. He tilted the page, and drew the shape of the coat less to the form of the soft black outline. He tilted it the other way, before straightening the page. He raised the page and held it in the sunlight pouring in the window. He turned his hand, to look at the back of the page instead.

            Reversing it didn’t make it right either.

            He crumpled the page and tossed towards the nearby trash bin. It missed by several centimeters, landing on the floor with a soft sound and rolling to a stop next to the bin.

            Kanji pulled out another page, this one with a more masculine outline printed on it. He began to sketch the previous coat again, this time to the new specifications.

            After another several minutes, he took another look at it. He scrutinized the sketch similarly to the previous one, before becoming equally frustrated. Instead of crumpling it up, he tore the page several times and just tossed the shreds aside.

            Kanji sat for a long moment.

            Naoto wasn’t really a guy. And he knew from that summer that she had a… visible form. Just the memories brought a wave of heat across his face.

            Yet.

            Yet it was hard to really imagine her that way. Not every day. It wasn’t the way she was comfortable.

            Was it?

            “Damn it,” he cursed under his breath.

            He pulled out another page.

            Why were there only two outlines in this set? It didn’t make sense to him. People came in a lot more types than just Straight-Line-Men and Curvy-Wave-Women. Even just his friends had more than that. His own frame was tall and muscular with wider shoulders. Chie wasn’t tall, but she had a strong, dense build, especially with her legs—which he _definitely_ hadn’t gotten a good look at the previous year before they kicked him off a cliff into a river. Yukiko was thin and waifty. Yosuke was lanky and had basically no muscle. Rise was shorter with prominent hips. Yu was… basically the average male form, if perhaps a little taller.

            Maybe Senpai wasn’t a good example for his frustration.

            But, Naoto?

            Naoto was somewhere in between all of those. Except for the chest she often worked so hard to hide. She was shorter—as much as she tried to fight it. Her hips were gentler than even Yosuke’s or Teddie’s, but certainly not like Rise’s. Her shoulders were unassuming, something she dealt with by wearing the right jackets and standing with the right confidence.

            She was Naoto.

            Kanji pulled out a second page.

            One male, one female.

            He placed them on top of each other. He held them up in the sunlight.

            Maybe that would work.

            He pulled a completely blank page out and placed it on top of the other two, before placing them down on the table.

            Kanji pulled out a new, red pencil. He began to sketch out a new outline, a better one.

            He didn’t even notice the piercing blue eyes staring at him from the window.

 

…

…

 

Yosuke lay awake on his bed, staring at his phone and listening to the sound of Teddie muttering in his sleep.

            _New Message._

            _Yu_.

            He turned the screen off.

            Yosuke still hadn’t told Yu about what had happened the other night. To Naoto.

            How she’d nearly died.

            How he’d completely frozen.

            Yosuke exhaled.

            He knew the look of disappointment the generally calm teen would give him. Just a hint of sternness in his eyes. But forgiveness in his voice.

            Just thinking about it turned his guts to ice.

            He woke his phone again. He pulled up the contacts list, dialing the second number on speed-dial. He brought the phone to his ear.

            It rang twice.

            “Y-Yosuke?” The voice spoke in a whisper. “Dude, it’s almost midnight. I’m trying to sleep.”

            “I….” He whispered back, desperate not to wake Teddie. “I just need a couple minutes.”

            Silence.

            “Please.”

            The voice on the other end exhaled slowly.

            “Okay, Yosuke. I’m here.”

            Yosuke closed his eyes.

            “Thanks, Chie.”

 

…

…

 

Naoto stood across the street from the Moel gas station.

            She tapped on her holstered gun again.

            Even after experiencing it multiple times, the sight of the Dark Hour covering Inaba, particularly the blood-like liquid oozing and dripping from nearly every building, never stopped filling her veins with dread.

            She took several steps out into the street, before turning towards the bus stop. She started to walk towards it.

            If Yosuke knew she was out here, alone, he would be _furious._ She wasn’t even properly healed yet.

            If Kanji knew….

            She shook her head.

            Now was not the time to be thinking about Kanji. There were enough odd emotions burning through her digestive system right now.

            She stopped at the bus stop sign. She closed her eyes, before taking several deep breaths.

            Maybe she should go home. Or to Kanji’s.

            _No. His mother would ask far too many questions._

_As would he._

She exhaled through her nostrils. She rested her hand on the handle of her gun.

            That’s when she sensed it.

            The same tension that she’d felt a year ago.

            Just before Namatame kidnapped her and threw her through a television into the Midnight Channel.

            She slowly slipped her hand to grip around her gun’s handle, quietly undoing the holster’s snap with one finger.

            Naoto opened her eyes. She inhaled slowly.

            On the exhale, she pivoted sharply on one foot to face behind her.

            Standing on the low concrete wall behind the bus stop, staring straight at her, was the Aberrant Shadow.


End file.
